


"Challenge of The Masked Racer, Revisited"

by lcopperfield



Category: Mach Go Go/Speed Racer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcopperfield/pseuds/lcopperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the original 1967 anime episode, "Challenge of The Masked Racer."  What could've happened if Jack Wiley had held Speed and Spritle for ransom--oh, the havoc!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Racer X Arrives

**_Title: “Challenge of the Masked Racer, Revisited_ ”**

 

 **_Author: lcopperfield_ **

 

_**Disclaimer:** _ **Based on the 2008 book by Chase Wheeler and the original 1967 TV episode, “Challenge of the Masked Racer.” All SPEED RACER characters and original storyline are the property of Speed Racer Enterprises, Inc. Song lyrics courtesy of The Beach Boys, Bon Jovi, and Foreigner. Artwork provided are my own sketches based on screenshots (thanks, Oriana) and other sources. Certain additional scenes cheerfully provided by my co-author/editor, Janee Rutledge, to whom I am indebted beyond belief---in more ways than one!**

 

  

**Chapter 1.** _ **Racer X Arrives** _

 

 

 _**I'm getting' bugged drivin' up and down the same old strip** _

_**I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip.** _

_**My buddies and me, we're getting' real well-known** _

_**Yeah the bad guys know us, and they leave us alone.** _

_**I get around...** _

 

 _**\---The Beach Boys, ' I Get Around ' (1964)---** _

 

 Whoever said life's just one big race, hadn't met Speed Racer.

The 18-year-old with the sparkling blue eyes and dark brown (nearly black) hair stepped on the gas of the Mach 5. The sleek white race car roared ahead, expertly handling the curves of the winding coastal road with total ease.

 Speed wasn't in a race, however. In fact, it was a rare free day for him. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, just right for a day at the beach, and that was where Speed and his girlfriend, 17-year-old Trixie, were headed. An inflatable mermaid doll hung from the Mach 5's rearview mirror, fluttering in the breeze. (No doubt, that was Trixie's doing!) Over head, an enormous flock of seagulls circled them, crying out as they flew by. A salty breeze rippled through Trixie's bouncy brown hair. “There's the ocean up ahead, Speed,” she said enthusiastically. The bright blue water came into view over the railing, making for a a very inviting scene. “Isn't it so beautiful!”

Speed nodded. “Uh, huh.” He handled another tight curve in the road. Soon the Mach 5 was running parallel to the ocean, with its breath-taking view. Waves lapped up against the cliff that separated the ocean from the roadway. The seagulls flew alongside Speed as he sped down the road, almost as if the sea birds were attempting to take on the Mach 5 in a race of their own.

Suddenly, a small black and white dog trotted out onto the road. It froze as the Mach 5 bore down on it. “Speed! Look out!” Trixie cried out, afraid they might hit the small animal.

“Don't worry, Trixie. I see it!” Speed reacted quickly. He pressed the A button on the steering wheel. Hydraulic jacks emerged from under the car's chassis. The Mach 5 propelled straight up into the air, then hopped over the little dog and landed safely beyond it.

Speed and Trixie smiled at each other. Thank goodness, for those autojacks!

Speed's father, Pops Racer, was a design genius when it came to building race cars. He had engineered the Mach 5 himself, outfitting the sleek racing machine with extra features to help it maneuver on all types of race courses, including some of the world's most dangerous off-track terrain. But those safety features which were so critical in auto racing, sometimes came in handy off the track, too.

They left the dog safely behind them and continued towards their destination. Both teens had the same idea: a swim in the ocean, a delicious picnic lunch, and a day of general relaxation on the beach. As they neared the docks, however, there was a flurry of activity which caught Speed's eye, and it made him slow down.

 At one end of the dockyard, a huge steamer ship was anchored. A large crowd had gathered in front of it, watching a race car being lowered from the ship via chains. The yellow car had a black 9 on the sides and hood. Two yellow fins stuck out of the car's rear end, and a black stripe ran from the windshield down to the front of the car, ending in a wicked-looking sharp nose.

A man in a white racing suit waited on the dock for the car to be lowered. He wore a black mask over his head that covered his eyes and chin, leaving only his mouth and nose exposed. Tall and muscular, he looked very athletic and dignified...

_ ...The infamous Racer X had arrived, and was making his presence known.  _

Speed parked the Mach 5. He and Trixie got out of the car, to watch the media frenzy surrounding Racer X's arrival. A crowd of people pushed and shoved their way forward, armed with microphones, notebooks, and cameras. Speed guessed that they were all news reporters.

“Racer X's car is being unloaded from the ship!” one reporter shouted eagerly. He wore glasses and a pink suit with a blue tie.

Next to him a photographer holding a camera agreed. “Oh, boy. Then I guess this means there'll be trouble in the Trans-Country Race, for sure.”

“Yes, and it's said that every time that the Masked Racer has been in a race, there have been mysterious crashes,” another reporter chimed in. “Rumor has it, that Racer X is behind those crashes.”

Behind them, a female reporter frowned. “Oh, come on! Nobody's ever been able to prove that,” she scoffed. “It's only conjecture. There's no evidence to tie the man to any of those accidents!”

The reporter in the pink suit grinned. “Why do you think I'm here? I wanna catch him in the act!” he bragged. “I'm sure gonna keep a close eye on this Racer X fellow.”

 The woman reporter shrugged, and walked away. “Suit yourself.”

 The yellow race car landed safely on the dock. Ignoring the chattering crowd that had gathered to watch, Racer X unhooked the chains that had lowered the car from the boat. He began to check the car's tires, keeping his back turned to the reporters all the while. Of course, the reporters didn't like that one bit.

 Speed and Trixie watched from a distance as the man carefully inspected every inch of his vehicle. Racer X was famous in the racing world, and his exploits were quickly becoming the stuff of legends. And for these two teenagers, they'd never been so close to a celebrity before!

Trixie had a dreamy look in her dark eyes. She was definitely star-struck. “He looks mysterious in that mask,” she said. “Handsome, too.”

 Speed, on the other hand, had a different reason for admiring the man. A professional one. “He drives faster than a rocket, and he won the Grand Prix at Le Mans four years in a row,” he replied. “He's won just about every race, he's ever entered.”

 “No kidding!” Trixie exclaimed, amazed. “That's certainly some record, he's built.”

 “Well, he's raced against some of the world's best racers, and he's beaten every single one of them.” Speed's blue eyes shone with admiration as he talked about Racer X.

Trixie sighed. “Oh, I hope to get to see what he really looks like!”

 Speed chuckled. “Sorry, but no one's ever seen him. They don't know much about him---his real name, where he's from, nothing. That's why they call him, Racer X.”

 He glanced out at the knot of reporters crowding around the Masked Racer. “Masked Racer, who do you think will win the Trans-Country Race?” one reporter asked, carefully approaching Racer X.

Racer X didn't answer. He kept working on his car.

 Still, the newshounds wouldn't leave the man alone. 'What's your opinion on all these crashes? Do you think any cars'll crash tomorrow?” another reporter persisted.

 Racer X turned, and silently scowled at the media mob gathered around him. “Aha!” the first reporter grinned. “So you're keeping _that_ a secret, eh? We'll see how high the crash count'll go, once the race actually gets under way.”

 X simply ignored the question. He really didn't have time to respond to what amounted to in his opinion, unproven accusations. Much to the reporters' dismay, he jumped into the driver's seat of his car. Photographers began snapping pictures like crazy. “Hold it, Masked Racer! Just one more shot!” someone called out. The mysterious racer paid him no mind, choosing instead to rev up his engine.

Just then a short, stout man with a bow tie, mustache and balding head impulsively pushed his way through the crowd and over to the Shooting Star. “Racer X, my name is Mr. Wiley,” the man began, introducing himself. “I'm on the committee of the Trans-Country Race. I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don't mind.”

 To the man's surprise, Racer X drove off without saying a word to anyone. Mr. Wiley's face turned bright red with anger, as he watched the Masked Racer speed away. How dare Racer X speed off on him, without hearing his proposal!

“Hey, don't go! We've got more questions!” a reporter cried out. “Come back!”

 Over by the Mach 5, Trixie and Speed exchanged mystified looks. “What was that about, I wonder?” Trixie mused out loud. “Who was that man, Speed? The short one with the bad bow tie?”

 Speed made a face. “Jack Wiley. He's one of the more powerful members of the Trans-Country Race committee,” the young racer replied. “But what I can't understand is, why he was so keen on talking to Racer X. He was pushing his way through the crowd, like it was an emergency.”

“More like, he was the only person on the planet important enough, who could talk to the Masked Racer,” Trixie sniffed.

 Speed thought about her comment a moment. “Well, whatever. I suppose, it's none of our business,” he said, getting into the driver's seat of the Mach 5. “But the beach----that, is our business. And we'd better get going.”

 The Masked Racer drove past the couple. Suddenly, his race car screeched to a halt. He looked at Speed and Trixie in his rear-view mirror, then he was off again. “Ooh!” Trixie nearly swooned. Nothing like a close encounter with a real celebrity, to make a girl's day! “He saw us!”

 Speed, however, frowned. _That Masked Racer sure is strange,_ he thought.

 He looked over at Trixie, and smiled. “Come on,” he said, a broad grin on his face. “Let's go catch some of those waves!”

 Trixie laughed. “Yes, especially since we don't have Spritle and Chim Chim hiding in our trunk, waiting to steal our picnic lunch!”

 “Let me guess. Fried chicken, and potato salad, right?” Speed grinned. He did so enjoy Trixie's cooking---next to his own mom's, of course. “And tell me, you brought a lemon meringue pie...!”

 Trixie stared at him. Men and their stomachs---! “Speed Racer, is that all I'm good for?” she exclaimed, playfully mussing her boyfriend's hair.

 “Aw, I don't know anything about cooking, Trix. Besides. Mom always said, I ate like a bird---”

She made a wry face at him. “Well then, I guess your mom's never seen you on one of our picnic dates!” Speed laughed, and put the Mach 5 into gear. Soon the couple was cruising along the coastal road, headed for what they thought would be an enjoyable day at the beach.

 Surf's up, folks!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. No Race For Speed

 

 

_** Chapter 2.  No Race For Speed ** _

__

Back at the Racer home, Pops Racer sat at his desk in his office, looking somewhat irked. Speed's little brother, Spritle, and the family's pet chimpanzee, Chim Chim, sat at a nearby table, happily eating oranges.

Pops wasn't very happy about something that morning, judging by the expression on his face. In the racing business, dealing with representatives of teams looking for good new drivers was a necessary evil, and lately the Racer family patriarch had had more than his share when it came to his son Speed's driving talent. Yes, the boy was a natural behind the wheel, but...But Pops just wasn't ready to let Speed race professionally. And he certainly wasn't going to let his son go to a rival motor team! Most times, Pops had no problem telling his visitors, no deal.

 Not today, however. Pops sat there, frowning under his black mustache as he eyed the two men standing in front of him. One was tall and thin, with a small mustache under his long nose. He wore a green suit with a matching hat, and glasses. The other man was short and round, with slicked-back hair. He was dressed in a maroon suit, with a green bow tie.

The thin man slapped a pile of money on the desk. “A thousand bucks. What do you say?” he asked.

Pops folded his muscular arms across his chest, and thought it over. “Hmmm,” he said, closing his eyes.

At the table, Spritle and Chim Chim paid close attention to the ongoing negotiations. As the bidding wars began, Spritle's brown eyes grew wide. “A thousand bucks! Chim Chim, think of all the candy we could buy with that!”

Chim Chim jumped up and down excitedly in his seat.  _ Eek! Eek!  _ he agreed.

Still, Pops didn't immediately respond. “My Alpha Team has got to win the great Trans-Country Race,” the thin man explained. “With the Masked Racer in the race, my team won't stand a chance. You've got to let your son Speed join my boys. With him on our side, we'll be able to beat that Racer X.”

“Hmmm,” Pops said again. He didn't seem to be very impressed by the man's offer.

The thin man slapped another pile of money on the desk. “I'll increase my offer. How does two thousand bucks sound to you, Mr. Racer? Two grand, for Speed's services----”

At that, Spritle's eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wow!” he cried out. “That'd really get us a lotta candy!”

 Chim Chim, meanwhile, tried to figure out just how much, two thousand was. First, he tried counting to two thousand on his fingers, getting nowhere fast with that idea. Then he took off his little red shoes, and tried counting on his toes. That too, went nowhere. _Eeeek!!!_ the chimp cried, then fainted on the spot. The thought of all that money plus what could be bought with it, was just too much for Chim Chim to picture!

 It still didn't impress Pops. He kept his eyes closed, and his arms folded.

 The thin man became nervous. So nervous, he was starting to sweat. “How about it, Mr. Racer? Will you let Speed join the Alpha Team for two thousand?”

Still no reply from Pops.

 The heavy-set man in the maroon suit started laughing. The thin man stomped up to him, irritated. “What's so funny?” he demanded loudly.

 “I'm laughing because you're offering Mr. Racer a measly two thousand bucks,” he explained smugly. “But I'm prepared to offer three thousand for Speed to be on my team!”

 Pops thoughtfully stroked his chin. Well, now, weren't things beginning to get interesting here. A real bidding war which in Speed's father's opinion, most likely wasn't going anywhere . “How about it, Mr. Racer?” the fat man asked. He opened a briefcase and took out a large sum of money and placed it on the desk next to the other piles of money. “Here's the money. I'll even throw in an extra fifty cents.”

 The coins clattered on the desk. Pops opened his eyes.

 The thin man burst out laughing. “Only three thousand? Come on, the boy's worth more than that,” he cackled sarcastically. “I'll make it...Four thousand.” He smacked more money down.

Pops shook his head no.

 Spritle and Chim Chim watched with glee. This was getting good. “Oh boy, the price is getting better and better!” Spritle said. “I hope it keeps going up.”

 The portly gentleman in the maroon suit looked serious now. “I'm willing to make that, five thousand dollars and fifty cents...”

 “Ten thousand!”

 “Twenty thousand!”

 The thin man scowled. “Fifty thousand, and that's my final offer!”

 “Keep holding out, Pops!” Spritle cheered. “Maybe they'll go up to a million!”

 But Pops had had enough of both of them. “Keep your money!” he barked. “Speed won't be on either one of your teams, and that's that!”

 Pops was a big man with a barrel chest and arms muscled from his years working as a professional wrestler. When Pops was angry, he could frighten a bear, let alone his entire family. The two front men with the cash were no different. Frightened, they grabbed their cash and ran out of the office as fast as they could.

Spritle frowned, realizing the chance of a lifetime had passed. “Too bad. Now we won't be able to buy any candy!” the youngster complained.

Pops let out an irritated sigh. Speed was good, but not ready to go pro just yet. And no amount of money was going to change Pops' mind!

 

555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 

 

The sun set over the harbor as the day ended, casting shades of red and gold upon the water. Speed and Trixie sat on the hood of the Mach 5, watching the sunset and talking quietly. It'd been a terrific day at the beach for both of them, having spent most of the day in the water. Then, the picnic lunch that Trixie had packed...More swimming, and walking along the beach, just enjoying the day for what it'd been worth...But probably the highlight of the day (at least for Trixie, any ways) was meeting Racer X at the docks. “Racer X will probably win the Trans-Country Race. Won't he, Speed?” Trixie asked, as the teens gazed out at the setting sun.

 Speed shrugged. “I guess so. Why do you ask?”

 “Well, I suppose he doesn't _have_ to win, does he?”

 Speed looked at her, a little uneasy. “Just what are you hinting at, Trix?” he wanted to know.

 “That maybe, you should enter the race!” Trixie urged, pouting just a little. “I'm positive, you're the one person who can give Racer X a run for his money. Beat him, even!”

Speed sighed heavily. He appreciated what Trixie was telling him, but he just didn't know when he'd ever get the green light to take on the Masked Racer in actual competition. “Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not.” He looked out at the waves, and a sad look filled his eyes. “We'll never know because I'm not racing.”

 Trixie gave him a wry look. “Oh, come on, Speed! You know you can't resist a good race,” she teased. “Won't you do it for me?”

 Speed just shook his head no. “You know I can't Trixie,” he replied softly. “You know Pops. It'll make him super angry, if he found out I entered a race without his permission. He'll ground me but good!”

Trixie just grinned. She was one very persistent gal, and her eyes sparkled with merriment. “Even once he sees you're going to win?” she whispered slyly. “If I know him, he'd take a well-raced win any day!”

 Speed and Trixie shared a laugh then. That was sooo like Pops, all right. He'd chew you out for something one minute, but behind your back he'd be secretly pleased with your efforts and results!

 A few minutes later, a red race car pulled up to the Mach 5. The driver wore a red racing suit and a red helmet with a white arrow on it. Speed recognized Zoomer Slick, a young driver on the circuit. “Hey, Speed!” Slick greeted him. “Guess who you're looking at---the winner of this year's Trans-Country Race, that's who!” The smug look on Zoomer's face said it all---he was enjoying rubbing that fact into Speed, but good.

 Trixie looked at Speed and rolled her eyes. What an obnoxious, smug jerk this guy was! She'd take Speed's quiet demeanor and resourcefulness over him, any time.

 “I just signed up with Mr. Fixer for the Alpha Team,” Zoomer continued enthusiastically. “Our team's got lots of spirit. One of us is going to beat the Masked Racer, and that's gonna be me!” He paused, and sarcastically clucked at Speed. “You know, it's too bad your father didn't take all that money Mr. Fixer offered him. Else you'd be driving for our team, instead of me.”

 Speed and Trixie looked at each other like someone had lit a firecracker beneath them. Had Pops really turned down a chance for Speed to enter the race?

 Slick wasn't finished with getting under Speed's skin. If that were his intent them damn it, he'd succeeded---in spades. “See you after I win---oh, I forgot. You're probably gonna be watching the race at home, with the rest of your family!” He waved, then zoomed away, leaving a very frustrated Speed and Trixie in his wake.

Although he was clearly stung and irritated by his rival's off-the-wall comments, Speed did a nice job of reining in his temper. Slick might not be the nicest guy in the world but he was a fellow driver, and Speed was a good sport. “Good luck, Zoomer!” he called out, and meant every word.

 Trixie, on the other hand, made no bones about how _she_ felt on the matter. “Ooh!! He's so conceited!” she scowled. “Now you have to enter that race, Speed. You have to beat Slick _and_ the Masked Racer!”

 Speed watched Slick drive off down the road. He leaned up against the left front fender of the Mach 5, deep in thought. The more he thought about the situation, the more sense Trixie's argument made. Speed knew he was a better driver than Zoomer Slick. So why did Slick get to race, while he, Speed Racer, was forced to sit on the sidelines? It wasn't fair.

 But then again, what part of life is fair?

Speed made a beeline for the driver's seat, and jumped in. He'd be darned if he didn't do something to remedy the situation. “Let's go, Trixie!” he called out, fastening his seat belt.

 “Where are we going?” Trixie asked, as she got into the passenger seat.

 Speed gave her a devious little grin. “You'll see!”

Uh, huh. Sounds like, somebody wants in on that race...Why, Speed. You conniving little devil, you!

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Rex's Story, As Told By Pops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pops "blows a gasket" when he finds out, Speed's entered the Trans-Country Race. The story behind Rex Racer's leaving home, as told by Pops.

 

 

 

 

 **_ Chapter 3.  Rex's Story, As Told By Pops _ **

 

Later that same evening, the entire Racer clan gathered around the television to watch the evening news. Pops reclined in his favorite armchair, looking rather relaxed in his bathrobe. Speed and his mom sat in chairs to either side of Pops. Mrs. Racer was a very attractive woman in her early forties, with brown hair and a friendly smile. Although she oftentimes remained on the sidelines where the family business was concerned, she was always supportive of her family's endeavors, and often accompanied her husband and sons to the track.

She was also just the type of person, who could easily deflate her husband's enormous ego/temper from time to time. When it came to cooling him off, Mom Racer certainly had Pops' number!

She sat in her chair, knitting. Her hands moved quickly as she worked diligently on the blanket she was making. Spritle and Chim Chim sat at the table, snacking on an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. A news announcer's voice blared from the TV set.  _ “ **And now from the world of sports.----The great Trans-Country Race will start in two days. This race is one of the most grueling and dangerous courses in the world, with drivers racing on a 300-mile course. Some of the world's best from the sport of motor racing will be competing.”** _

 Race cars zoomed across the TV screen, catching Spritle Racer's attention and making him watch with wide eyes. Even though he wasn't old enough to race yet, the youngster loved everything about racing. After all, he was a Racer.

 Chim Chim, meanwhile, decided to pull a fast one on his human companion while Spritle was occupied elsewhere. The chimpanzee picked up the last cookie on the plate. Then he grabbed the ball of yarn that Mrs. Racer was using, and placed that on the plate instead. Chim Chim giggled, waiting to see what would happen.

 The picture on the screen changed to show another group of drivers in red racing uniforms. Zoomer Slick stood in front of them. _**“Let me introduce a few of our more well-known drivers to our viewing audience,”**   _the TV announcer went on. _**“Zoomer Slick is the top driver for the Alpha Team and he's hungry for a win on the circuit.”**_

 “Awww! He's in the race?” Spritle asked, making an odd face at the mere mention of the man's name. Automatically he reached for what he thought, was a cookie—--and instead found himself biting into his mother's ball of yarn! “ _Blehhhh!!!”_

  _“Ha! Ha!”_ Chim Chim laughed.

Spritle glared at his pet. “That wasn't very funny, Chim Chim!” he fumed comicially. “I'll deal with you, later!”

Speed and his dad both started to laugh. “Hey, Spritle. Looks like you left yourself wide open for that one,” Speed joked, a big grin on his face.

An annoyed Spritle got up from his chair and proceeded to playfully beat on his older brother's chest with both chubby little fists. “Oh, yeah, Speed? Well maybe the next time Mom makes spaghetti, I'll put a ball of yarn on  _ YOUR _ plate and YOU can bite into it!” the little boy huffed.

A laughing Speed pretended to take his little brother's jabs. “Ohh, I'm sooo scared!”

Just then, their father held up a hand. A picture of Racer X had just appeared onscreen. “All right, boys, that's enough of the practical joking! I want to hear this newscast,” Pops said, nodding to the television set. “I want to know, who else is running this race.”

 Both Spritle and Speed blushed. “Uh---sorry, Pops.”

He and Spritle settled down once again to watch the TV with their dad.  _ “ **This is Racer X, known throughout the world as the Masked Racer,”**    _ they heard the announcer go on.  _ **“He has been known to bring bad luck to many races.”** _

 Pops nodded. “That may be true. But he's one of the best racers, I've ever seen!”

Speed looked up at him. Ever since his and Trixie's chance encounter earlier in the day with the Masked Racer, the idea that someone as skilled as that man could deliberately cause crashes didn't sit well with the young racer. “Pops. Can I ask you something?”

 His father looked a little surprised. “Go ahead, son. What is it?”

“Do you think, Racer X is behind all those crashes?” The expression on Speed's face was a dead serious one.

Pops had to stop and think about the question a moment. “To be honest, Speed, I really can't say for sure. Part of me doubts it, X is too good a driver to be so careless. I don't even think there's a dirty bone in him, to pull such dirty tactics. The Alpha Team? Yes, they certainly play dirty. Masked Racer? Highly improbable. I hope that answers your question, son.”

Speed nodded. “I guess so.”

 The announcer wasn't finished listing the remaining entrants. **“** _ **In addition to the Masked Racer, one of the top contenders and last-minute entries is a newcomer. Speed Racer!”**_

 Uh-ohhh!!!! Look out, fire in the Racer home! Nobody saw _that_ coming---least of all, Pops. 

Mom Racer gasped. She leaned forward in her chair, pulling the ball of yarn with her. Poor Spritle was still holding onto the ball, and he went a-tumbling off his chair, much to Chim Chim's delight.

 Speed, meanwhile, braced himself for the expected fallout. Pops was definitely not going to be very pleased about this---and when Speed's father wasn't happy about something, _nobody_ in the family was happy. 

The TV announcer continued on.  _ “ **Speed has raced in very few meets so far. He will enter this race driving the Mach 5, a special racing car designed and built by his father, the legendary Pops Racer.”** _

Um, hmm. Sure enough, Pops's face turned as red as an Alpha Team racing uniform. His wife just grinned. _ “ **This race should have something for everyone---lots of excitement, lots of racing action, one-on-one position battles. In the end, however, it'll come down to this---a close, heated showdown between Speed Racer and the Masked Racer,”** _ the announcer finished.

 Pops exploded then. “You're not supposed to be in that race!” he yelled. “I won't allow it!”

 Spritle frowned. It never failed---it seemed like Pops was always yelling at Speed for something. “Here we go again! Pops is blowing another gasket!” the lad said, rolling his eyes.

 Pops got out of his chair. The big man looked like an angry volcano, ready to erupt. “Speed, I don't want you driving in that race!” he fumed. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to enter. Understand??”

 Here, Mrs. Racer put down her knitting and stepped up behind Pops. “Now, dear, calm down,” she said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 Spritle giggled. “And here we go, Pops is gonna change his mind!”

 At length, Pops' tone of voice softened. “Look. I'm only trying to do what's best for you, son,” he told Speed. “You don't have enough skill or the experience yet, to take on someone like the Masked Racer in a race. It requires advanced technical skills. Sharp reflexes are necessary over every inch of that race course.”

 Speed looked down at the floor, and bit down on his lower lip. He'd gotten this lecture from Pops, many times---too many times, it seemed. Speed had trained hard to be a racer, but it appeared that his father would never be convinced that he was ready to race.

 “Let me tell you about your older brother Rex,” Pops said, his voice softening. He lay a hand on his dejected son's shoulder. “Rex left home many years ago, after he and I got into a terrible argument. He was eighteen---the same age you are now.”

Speed looked at the photo of his brother that hung on the wall. Rex Racer sat in a yellow race car, a look of determination on his face.

 Pops continued. “You see, Speed. Rex entered a race without asking my permission. He used a car that I'd spent years building...”

 Pops got a faraway look on his face as memories of that day flooded his brain. Pops had arrived at the racetrack as fast as he could, in time to see his eldest son in the thick of a wild finish. Rex was speeding around the track. Two cars crashed in front of him, leaving the elder Racer boy alone in first place.

 But---Rex got a little reckless. His car suddenly spun out of control, and he crashed into the retaining wall. Pops had rushed over to the car as Rex climbed out. Thankfully, he'd been uninjured.

 That's when the argument began. Pops remembered every word, like it was yesterday. _“I'm sorry, Pops,” Rex had apologized. “A few yards farther and I would've been the winner. I did such a great job of driving, I deserved to win the race!”_

 _“You deserved to lose!” Pops cried angrily. “Your driving was terrible!”_

  _“What do you mean, terrible? I would've won if my car hadn't gone into a spin!” Rex said heatedly, his own temper getting the best of him._

 _“Right!” Pops said, equally furious. “And if you had more experience, that wouldn't have happened!”_

 _“It was just an accident, Pops!” Rex protested._

  _“I don't care,” Pops shot back. “I don't want to find you behind the wheel of a car again. And that's final!”_

  _Rex's eyes blazed with anger and pride. “Then I'll become a champion without you, Pops. I'm leaving home!” He turned and walked down the track, leaving Pops and the burning car behind him..._

That had been the last time, anyone in the family had seen Rex Racer. Pops paused, his eyes beginning to tear at the memory. For all his gruff and bluster, the man still held out hope that one day his eldest son would return, but for now he wanted to make sure Speed wouldn't make the same mistakes his brother did.

 He looked at Speed. “That's why you need more experience, Speed,” Pops said softly. “I want you to get more experience so you won't crash, the way Rex did. Your brother could've been seriously hurt.”

Just then, Spritle stepped in between them. “But Pops, don't you know Speed is the best racing car driver in the world?” the little boy cheerfully piped up.

 “I didn't ask you, Spritle!” Pops comically bellowed. That was enough to send Chim Chim scurrying for cover behind Spritle's back, shivering.

 Mrs. Racer looked up from her knitting. “It's getting pretty late. Time for bed, boys,” she interjected softly. “Good night, Spritle. Good night, Speed.”

 “Good night!” Speed and Spritle said, in unison.

 A little while later Speed was in bed, reading the latest issue of his favorite racing magazine. Rather---trying to read. But his concentration kept being broken by thoughts of his absent brother. Eventually he set the magazine down on his bedcovers, and looked upwards at the ceiling. _Oh, Rex, where are you?_ Speed thought. He turned over, and pounded a fist on his pillow. _Why don't you come home again, where you belong? Mom and Pops miss you. I miss you!---I'm going to race against the Masked Racer whether Pops likes it or not. I wish you could be here to see me. I've got to beat him, I've got to! If I beat the Masked Racer, then Pops'll know I'm ready to go pro!_

 Speed rolled over, and fell into a fitful sleep.

 


	4. Secret Plans And A Mysterious Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to Jack Wiley and his cronies. Spritle gets a visit from the mysterious Racer X, who has a letter for Speed.

 

 

 

 **_ Chapter 4.  Secret Plans And A Mysterious Letter _ **

The next morning, things were happening that would eventually have an effect on the outcome of the Trans-Country Race.

Downtown, a group of men met in a hotel room. One of those present was Jack Wiley, the man who had tried to talk to Racer X on the docks the day before. Now, it was true that he was on the committee of the Trans-Country Race. What many people didn't know, was that he secretly managed the Alpha Racing Team as well.

Conflict of interest? Definitely.

Jack Wiley sat in a fancy leather chair, puffing away on a cigar. Standing next to him was Mr. Fixer, the tall thin man in the green suit who had offered Pops Racer fifty thousand dollars to have Speed race for the Alpha Team. In front of them, Zoomer Slick and the other Alpha Team racers stood. Mr. Wiley had called this secret meeting to discuss the upcoming race. “Now, I want my team to win the Trans-Country Race no matter what the cost,” Wiley was saying. He focused his beady brown eyes on his lead driver, Zoomer Slick. “Do you understand, Slick?”

Slick was more than eager to get going. “You can count on me, Mr. Wiley,” he said confidently. “It doesn't matter if the Masked Racer and Speed Racer are both in the race. I'm going to beat them both!”

“Smart boy! That's what I like to hear,” Wiley replied. “But it's not gonna be an easy thing. I heard that the Masked Racer is one tricky fellow.”

Slick grinned. “Oh, don't worry. No matter what trick he pulls, I'll pull it first,” he promised. “I'll beat him, and good.”

Mr. Wiley laughed. “That's the dirty fighting spirit!”

Slick then leaned in closer to his boss. “When I do win, I'll expect to be paid well for it.”

Mr. Wiley smiled deviously. “Of course you will! I promise, Slick. You'll get everything you deserve, and then some,” he replied, taking another puff on his cigar.

 At that point, Mr. Fixer stepped between them. “Hey, Boss. I just found out that the Masked Racer has a house in town,” he said, his voice quivering with excitement. “I'll bet, he's making plans to beat us.”

 Mr. Wiley shrugged. “So?”

“Well, maybe we oughta make some plans to beat him. Or even, get him out of the race before it even starts,” Mr. Fixer pointed out.

“Don't worry,” Slick bragged. “When I'm out there on that track, I'll do my stuff and he won't know what hit him!”

 Mr. Wiley nodded approvingly. Forget about Speed Racer---Slick was just the man he needed on his team now. “Good luck, Slick!”

 OK, I smell dirty pool here---or is it, a _dirty race??_

 After the meeting broke up Wiley remained alone in the hotel room, thinking. His right-hand man, Fixer, had made some good points. He wasn't worried too much about Speed being in the race; the kid was just a rookie, and rookies rarely gave it their all in major races.

 Besides. If there were someone to worry about...

 ... _It'd be Speed's father, and the Masked Racer. Pops, because he and Wiley had previously butted heads over racing issues and the Masked Racer...Well, because he was a threat to Wiley's team!_ Maybe Fixer's right, Wiley told himself. Time to eliminate the competition---one way, or another.

Now, what do you suppose,  _ he's _ thinking of doing??

Elsewhere, across town...

 

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 At the Racer house, Spritle and Chim Chim were playing outside in the family's spacious backyard. Spritle had two toy race cars---one looked like his brother's Mach 5, and the other was a yellow race car with a number 9 on the sides, similar to the car that Racer X drove. Spritle had built a racecourse in a big, long sandbox, and the motorized cars zoomed around it. The toy vehicles were side by side.

Spritle, naturally, called the race. _“Number 9, driven by the Masked Racer, is beating Speed Racer, driving the Mach 5. Now they're neck and neck---uh-oh, it looks like the Masked Racer's trying to make Speed crash!”_

 Both cars sped to the end of the sandbox. They flew over the edge and landed nosedown in a pile of dirt. _“Yow! They both crashed!”_ Spritle yelled out.

 He reached out to pick up the cars. Suddenly, he stopped. The cars had crashed at the feet of a man in a white racing suit. He wore a black mask over his face. “The Masked Racer!” Spritle screamed. “Hide!”

 Spritle and Chim Chim ran, tripping over each other as they tried to get away. Spritle picked himself up, ran, then crashed into a chair swing! “Ahhh!!!! Oww!” the lad yelped.

 Racer X approached him. “Don't be afraid,” he said. “I just need to ask a favor of you.”

 “I'm not afraid of you.” Spritle sat in the chair swing, trying to look tough.

 “Isn't your name Spritle?”

 Spritle quickly jumped off the swing and shook his right fist at his visitor. “That's what it is, and I'm stronger than I look. So watch out!”

 The Masked Racer smiled. “Oh, believe me, Spritle. I will.”

 Spritle looked at him suspiciously. “So what did you really come here for?” the youngster demanded.

 “I told you. I need to have you do something for me.,” X replied. He held out a white envelope. “I want you to give this letter to your brother Speed.”

Spritle looked confused. “Huh? I don't get it,” he said, puzzled. “Why don't you give it to him youself? He's out front, washing the Mach 5. Besides, what do I look like--the mailman???"

“I'd like to. But I don't want anybody to know about this,” the Masked Racer answered mysteriously. “Please, make sure Speed gets this. It's very important.” As an added incentive, he handed a surprised Spritle a big handful of candy. Naturally, that made Spritle and Chim Chim very eager to carry out their assignment.

Racer X tucked the letter inside the front pocket of Spritle's overalls, then gave the boy a gentle pat on the head. “Now be a good boy, Spritle,” he said kindly. He jumped into his car, and drove off.

Spritle and Chim Chim watched the man go. “Come on, Chim Chim. We gotta get this letter to Speed!” he urged, unaware that the chimp had stolen his candy.

As usual.

 Suddenly, Spritle noticed that his candy supply had just gotten smaller---nearly 80 percent smaller. “Hey!! Chim Chim, that's MY candy!” he yelled, and began to chase Chim Chim around. “The Masked Racer gave ME the candy, not you!”

_ Hoo, hoo!  _ Chim Chim screeched, leaving a trail of candy behind him.

 Eventually, they raced around to the front of the house. As Spritle had mentioned, Speed was outside in the driveway, washing down the Mach 5 with a hose. Spritle tooke the letter from his overalls, and began to wave it around. “Speed! Speed! Look! The Masked Racer gave me a letter. He said it's for you!” he cried out.

Speed turned off the hose. “The Masked Racer? He was here?”

 “Sure was! Nearly scared the daylights outta us, too,” Spritle said.

 Speed eyed the remnants of the candy in his little brother's pockets. “Not to mention, bribed you with candy, I see,” he joked. “Now, let's have that letter.”

He took the letter from his baby brother. Spritle grinned, proud that he'd been given such an important task. Speed then opened the envelope, and read the contents.

 Suddenly, he frowned. “What does it say, Speed?” Spritle wanted to know, jumping up and down with excitement.

 Speed sighed, and shook his head. “It doesn't have anything to do with you, Spritle,” he answered, a serious expression on his face. “It's something between me, and the Masked Racer. Promise you won't tell anyone?”

Spritle nodded. “Okay.”

 “Now why don't you run along? I've got to finish washing the Mach 5.” Speed pocketed the letter, then went back to washing the car.

 After Spritle and Chim Chim ran back to the sandbox in the back yard, Speed pondered the events of the past day or so. _Boy, it's like everyone's trying to keep me out of the Trans-Country Race tomorrow. Pops nearly chewed my head off, then he tells me he doesn't want me to make the same mistake that Rex did when he was my age. Now the Masker Racer's warning me not to enter, too. I don't get it---it's just a race, I'm sure I can handle the course....What could possibly go wrong?_

 In your case, Speed? Everything. It's not the race course or the other racers you have to worry about...

 ... _it's the people behind the scenes, who are more dangerous. And Speed would soon find that out, the hard way._

 

 


	5. Pride + A Rainy Night=Big Trouble For Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Speed disobeys his father and takes on the Masked Racer in a stormy 2 AM race.

 

 

 

 **_ Chapter 5.  Pride + A Rainy Night=Big Trouble For Speed _ **

 

 

 _**Oh, if there's one thing I hang onto** _

_**That gets me through the night** _

_**I ain't gonna do what I don't want to** _

_**I'm gonna live my life.** _

_**Shining like a diamond** _

_**Rolling with the dice** _

_**Standing on a ledge, I'll show the wind how to fly** _

_**When the world gets in my face, I say---** _

_**Have a nice day.** _

_ \---Bon Jovi, “Have A Nice Day (2005)--- _

 

 

For the second night in a row, Speed couldn't sleep.

No, it wasn't the vicious thunderstorm raging outside his bedroom window that was keeping the young racer awake. It was the even bigger storm raging inside of Speed, that was the problem. Speed's mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions tonight as he lay in bed, and it just didn't want to shut down.

 He could still hear every word of Pops' blistering lecture from the other night, ringing in his mind---Pops had really “blown a gasket” when he'd learned via the TV, that Speed had entered the Trans-Country Race against his wishes. Then there were those submerged memories and thoughts about his missing older brother Rex that haunted him even to this day---why couldn't Rex just come home now? Surely by this time, Pops would have forgiven him for that ridiculous (at least in Speed's mind) argument...And then there was the matter of the strange note from the Masked Racer himself. That really gnawed at Speed's pride, so to speak. _The Masked Racer told me not to enter_ _the Trans-Country Race tomorrow,_ Speed irritably thought to himself. Outside, another loud peal of thunder rattled his bedroom window. _Who does the Masked Racer think he is, anyways? He has no right telling me, what I can or can't do.---I wonder. I wonder if he's afraid, I'll beat him. That's got to be it! Well, there's only one way to find out. I've got to enter that race!_

 A tremendous bolt of lightning lit up the whole of Speed's room, charging the air with electricity while at the same time casting an eerie glow. That was followed by one particularly noisy crash of thunder, but Speed simply ignored the frightful weather conditions outside. Right now he was irked not only at the Masked Racer, but his own father as well. _Pops says, I need more experience,_ Sp;eed muttered to himself as he tossed fitfully under his covers. _But how can I get that experience, if he won't let me participate in an actual race?? It's a real Catch-22 situation if you ask me, and I don't like it. It's no wonder, Rex left in a huff after arguing with Pops that day..._

The more Speed thought about his dilemma, the more determined he became about doing something to resolve it.  _ That's it. Pops wants me to get more experience? Well, I'll just go to the track right now, and I'll get that experience!  _ He slipped out of bed, and hastily got dressed. Grabbing his car keys off his dresser, Speed quietly slipped out of his bedroom and down the hall, past his parents' room.  _ They're asleep. Thank goodness for that,  _ Speed breathed to himself.

He silently tip-toed downstairs, towards the door that led to the family's garage. The clock on the hallway wall read, almost two o'clock.

Uh, huh. That “darn Racer temper,” as Speed's mom once put it, had reared its ugly head once again. Not the smartest thing to do at two in the morning during a thunderstorm, Speed!

Suddenly, Speed heard a noise behind him. For a moment, he thought he might had awakened one or both of his parents. Heart pounding, he turned to look back...

...And quickly breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was only his baby brother Spritle, sleepwalking in his pajamas!

Speed fought to suppress the urge to laugh. He had a feeling, he knew where this sleepwalking episode might end. Either in the bathroom, or at the candy dish on the kitchen table! He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he headed to the garage.

 Once inside the garage, Speed grabbed his racing helmet from the trunk of the Mach 5, and put it on. He jumped into the sleek race car, buckled his seat belt, then opened the electric garage door. A ferocious gust of wind blew in through the open door, knocking everything off the shelves. Outside, the rain continued to hammer the house in torrential sheets.

Speed revved the Mach 5's engine. He knew what he was doing was foolish and perhaps even downright dangerous, but he was so irked at the world then that he just didn't care. He wanted to race, more than anything. That was all he'd ever dreamed about. He had to prove to his dad, that he could follow his dream.

Headlights piercing the darkness, Speed drove off into the pouring rain. If only he knew, what he was about to get himself into ...

Speed found it rough going en route to the race track. The rain was so heavy and the visibility so poor, he could only see a few feet ahead of him. Still, the storm didn't slow him down any. The Mach 5 hugged every twist and turn of the highway, despite the hazardous driving conditions. Soon Speed caught the scent of salt in the air, and the round stadium that housed the track loomed large in front of him.

Speed made a face, and took a deep breath.  _ OK, here we go. Time to get a little practice in! _

The Mach 5 roared down the track, its form blurred in the wind-driven rain. As Speed came out of Turn One and down the straightaway, he saw headlights in front of him followed by a flash of yellow. He had company.

Speed stepped on the brake. The Mach 5 came to a screeching halt in the middle of the track. Looking very uneasy, Speed climbed out of his car and narrowed his eyes as a yellow race car approached.

_ Crack!  _ Lightning bathed the track in bright white light.

The car rolled to a stop directly in front of Speed. Racer X got out to face him. “You!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here, Speed?”

“Practicing.” Speed's voice sounded cold and distant.

 “At this time of night? In this weather?” X sounded surprised.

The teen racer shrugged. “Pops said, I didn't have the experience to enter tomorrow's Trans-Country Race. So I plan on getting some!”

 “You can't enter that race, Speed,” Racer X said firmly.

 Speed could feel his temper building to almost boiling point. His blue eyes simmered with anger. “I can beat you,” he said, clenching his fists tightly. “I'll prove it!”

 He jumped back into the Mach 5 and sped off, much to his opponent's dismay. “Wait!” Racer X called out. He leapt into the Shooting Star, and immediately took off in pursuit of the rather hot-headed Speed.

 What had started as a practice run for both drivers, now became a two-car race. The two vehicles zoomed down the track, matching speed for pure speed. Then they left the familiarity of the race track and drove out onto the rain-slicked highway. Speed was in the lead—just barely.

 After a few miles of smooth highway, the road took a steep drop down a hill, then straightened out through a mountain pass. The rain pelted the Mach 5 even harder now, and Speed could barely see in front of him, even with his wipers going at a rapid clip. Still he pushed on, driven by anger and determination. Perhaps he was a little too angry and too determined to beat the Masked Racer, to realize the danger he was putting himself into---but Speed recklessly picked up speed. One wrong turn now, and it'd be all over for him---the Mach 5 could conceivably be sent crashing into the rocks.

The road ahead widened, allowing the Masked Racer to come up quickly on Speed and pass him. This the man did, expertly bringing the Shooting Star up on Speed's left side then shooting ahead of him, using the Mach 5 the way a child would use a slingshot. He completed the maneuver with the ease and discipline of an experienced racer.

 Speed frowned, and gritted his teeth. If there was one thing he detested more than anything, it was being shown up over his driving abilities. He took Racer X's actions as a challenge, and in typical teenage fashion floored the gas, pushing the Mach 5 to its absolute mechanical limits. (Wouldn't Pops just _love_ to hear about _that_ _!_ ) He charged ahead, speeding past Racer X.

Suddenly, the mountain road took a sharp turn. Speed skidded, but managed to make the turn on his two right wheels. Sparks shot out from his tires. He struggled to get control of the car, but a pile of fallen boulders and rocks blocked the road up ahead. Speed hadn't seen them until it was nearly too late, and by that time he didn't have time to steer around them. He quickly hit the “A” button on the steering wheel. The hydraulic lifts sent the Mach 5 flying safely over the boulders.

 One problem with the autojacks in wet weather, however. When the tires hit the wet pavement, Speed couldn't get enough traction to complete a safe landing. The Mach 5 hit a rock, and went into a spin!

 “Oh, no!” Speed cried, his mouth dropping wide in horror. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and attempted to steer out of the resulting spin.

 Speed's stomach suddenly lurched as the Mach 5 spun out into one 360-degree turn after another. Fighting his growing panic, he pressed the “B” control. Ridged covering surrounded all four tires, giving Speed the traction he needed in order to straighten out the car.

 He still couldn't get the Mach 5 to ride smoothly after that harrowing near-miss, however. A frantic Speed continued to fight the steering wheel as the car banged into the metal guard rail. He heard a sickening screech, as the side of the Mach 5 scraped up against the railing.

 Oh, boy, that's just dandy. Another messed-up paint job for Pops to deal with, courtesy of Speed's stubborn streak!

 The mountain road now followed the coastline. The ocean waves angrily slapped up against the barrier wall to the Mach 5's left. To Speed's right, the jagged rocks of the mountain. Both made for formidable driving hazards.

Racer X tried to catch up to Speed. He expertly steered through the fallen boulders and followed the Mach 5 along the same winding stretch of coastal road. A jagged bolt of lightning struck the mountain, temporarily blinding the Masked Racer. He recovered quickly, however, then worriedly turned on his radio for the latest weather report.

 

_ RADIO ANNOUNCER:  _ _ **“The forecast for the day of the big race is** _

_**still uncertain. Right now we're in the center of a low** _

_**pressure area that is bringing heavy rains and high winds.** _

_**At sea, the waves are thirty feet high and the tide is still** _

_**rising. Driving conditions are extremely hazardous, and** _

_**local authorities are advising residents not to go out** _

_**tonight if they don't have to. Stay off the roads tonight.”** _

 

__ Frowning, Racer X turned off the radio. This was definitely not good news. He had no doubt about the veracity of the announcer's report---all he had to do was to look out to his left. The high waves were pouring over the guard rail, making the road even slicker and more dangerous by the minute. And X could feel the impact the high winds were having on the Shooting Star, as they buffeted the race car violently from side to side.

 Over in the Mach 5, Speed was staring reality in the face, and for the first time since he set out he was beginning to regret his rash decision to take the Mach 5 out into the storm. Water splashed up onto the windshield, making it nearly impossible for the young man to see ahead. Gasping loudly for breath, he fought desperately to maintain control of the Mach 5. The visibility was so bad, Speed inadvertently veered into a stack of oil drums on the side of the road.

  _Bam! Bam! Bam!_ The metal drums smacked into the Mach 5, and bounced around on the road. “Oh, crap!” Speed exclaimed, wide-eyed with shock as he dodged the rolling objects.

 “Speed!” Racer X cried out in alarm.

 Racer X saw the drums, and with great skill swerved around them. Speed, however, was once again struggling with the Mach 5. He quickly regained control of the car, but only for a moment. The storm was raging at full strength now, and the race car swerved erratically back and forth across the road. Even the extra traction provided by the special tire grips were no help against hydroplaning, and Speed was beginning to panic---he couldn't control the skidding.

 Still, the teen racer was determined not to let the weather dictate his next move, although deep down he was worried and scared—very scared. He knew now, he'd made one whopper of a mistake tonight. He was just too stubborn and too proud, to admit it. Speed gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel with all his strength. _I won't give up and stop the car,_ he told himself, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. _I've got to show Racer X what I can do. I've got to keep driving!_

Yep. Just like a Racer, all right.----Namely, his father!

 Off to his left, a boat thrashed about helplessly in the angry surf, which was churned up by the powerful waves. The boat crashed into the retaining wall, sending large chunks of concrete flying towards the Mach 5. “Ohh, man!” Speed gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets in alarm, “Look out, above!”

 He turned the wheel sharply, to avoid crashing into the debris himself. His troubles were far from over, however...

 High up somewhere on the mountain, a shadowy figure watched the action on the roadway below with great interest. He was using a two-way radio to make contact with his unseen boss. _“OK, I'm in position now...Yeah, Racer X is in sight. One problem---so is that pesky kid. Speed Racer, in the Mach 5...Yeah, I know what to do. Don't worry, I'll get X for sure.”_

 As the Mach 5 passed below, a hand holding a knife suddenly swung at a rope and cut through, releasing a dangerous load down the mountainside. An avalanche of logs tumbled down the slope and onto the roadway below. “AHHHH!!!” screamed Speed, as he braced himself for the inevitable collision.

  _The Mach 5 was about to crash!_

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Will The Real Rex Racer, Please Show Himself??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Masked Racer's side of the story, in which he reveals his true identity--unbeknownst to his younger brother. Speed later finds his big brother's mask--and winds up being kidnapped!

 

 

 ** Chapter 6.  __ _ Will The Real Rex Racer, Please Show Himself?? _ **

 

The logs tumbled every which way down the mountain slope onto the road. With no time to either steer or to jump, a frantic Speed slammed on the brakes as hard as he could.

  _Wham!_ The Mach 5 crashed into the logs.

 Speed never knew what hit him. His world suddenly faded to black as a result of the impact. His car door flew open, and his limp body fell out of the race car and onto the rain-saturated ground.  The hard, wind-driven rain pelted the boy's still form mercilessly, and soon Speed was lying in at least a half-inch to an inch of water.

 Fortuantely, Racer X saw what happened. He stopped the Shooting Star almost immediately, and leapt out. Pelted by the heavy rain, X hurried over to where Speed lay and carefully picked up the boy's limp form. He carried Speed over to his car, then radioed for a service station to tow the Mach 5 back to his own house.

A few hours later, the worst of the storm was over. The rains had finally stopped, and it was now approaching dawn. Speed lay on a spare bed in Racer X's home, sleeping peacefully. He wasn't hurt, but he hadn't opened his eyes once since the crash.

 That fact alone was enough to worry Racer X. He hovered over Speed, a concerned look on his face. Even as he gazed down at the sleeping boy, stormy thoughts began to run through the older man's mind. _It's true that in every race I enter, there seems to be an inordinate number of terrible crashes. But people are wrong to think I caused them,_ Racer X thought to himself. _I am not an evil person. I suspect that someone is out to get me, but who or why I don't know. I do know that every time I race, this mysterious enemy puts other racers in danger. That's why I don't want you racing tomorrow, Speed. I don't want you to get hurt---you almost did tonight, and I have a strong suspicion that those logs didn't just come tumbling down that mountain on their own. They were purposely released---and clearly meant for me but you got in the way. That's a good enough reason, for you to stay out of this race---I want to protect you._

 X sighed at that point, unsure of what to say or do next. He closed his eyes for a moment, and as he did memories of a certain day some six or so years back began to flood his brain. Images of his own first race, when he'd been no older than Speed was now...He opened his eyes, and gazed at the sleeping Speed. “You see, Speed. I am secretly your older brother, Rex Racer,” he said softly, laying a hand on the young racer's shoulder. “Years ago, when I was a rookie with no racing experience , I entered a race at the Sunny Downs Track without Pops' permission. I took the special racing car that Pops had built, to the track that day. I wanted to win more than anything. I wanted to be world's champion.“

He recalled that day vividly. The roar of the powerful engine, the feeling of pure energy that flowed through him as he raced around the track. The track truly was in Rex Racer's blood, and it showed in the way he'd handled the car. For the first time in his young life, he'd felt truly alive.

But then, something happened. Within seconds, that feeling had changed to one of sheer terror.

Racer X continued his soliliquy, taking a seat on the edge of Speed's bed. “I lost control of the car and crashed,” he remembered. It all seemed like a distant dream now. “I was lucky to escape unhurt. I still wanted to race again, but Pops was furious. It wasn't just because I had wrecked the car. He felt I needed more experience, that I lacked the skill and experience needed to be a good driver---the same speech, I'm sure he's given you time and time again. He told me, I couldn't race again. I argued with him, but you know Pops. He's absolutely stubborn. When his mind is made up, there's no changing it.

“Well, we argued furiously over the incident. Finally, I had enough, and stormed off---I was determined to race, with or without Pops' approval. I decided to leave the family---and believe me, Speed, that probably was the hardest decision I ever had to make,” X continued, fighting his emotions as he recalled what happened next. “I hated having to leave you, Mom, and Pops behind. We were always a close family, but I had no choice after the blow-up with Pops. I had to go away and continue my education as a driver. To learn, to practice, and to compete until I could become the world's champion racer. I vowed that no one would learn my identity until I achieved my goal. Until I do reach that goal, Speed, no one will ever learn that I'm really your older brother Rex. Not even you.”

With that, Racer X got up and left the room.

 Speed slept on. He had no idea that he'd been rescued by his long-lost elder brother. And if the Masked Racer had his way...Speed might never know.

 

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 The next morning found Trixie, Spritle, and Chim Chim cruising around town in her yellow convertible, looking for Speed. Pops was already on the warpath that morning---almost as soon as he'd gotten up he had found the Mach 5 missing and Speed not in his bedroom. Mrs. Racer had been the one to contact Trixie about the situation, and therefore the search for Speed and the Mach 5 was on. Naturally, Spritle and Chim Chim had to join in on the fun, and they sat in the back seat of Trixie's car, with Spritle busily licking away at a vanilla ice cream cone. “I wonder where he could be,” Trixie mused, frowning. “It's not like Speed, to take off in the middle of the night. I certainly hope nothing's happened to him or the Mach 5.”

 Spritle looked up at Trixie while she was talking. He nodded eagerly, all the while unaware that his ice cream was in danger---from Chim Chim. “Yeah! Boy, was Pops ever mad this morning when he found out, Speed had taken off. He was threatening to get Speed's license re...re...” He was so busy trying to think of the word 'revoked,' he didn't have his eye on his little pal. Chim Chim saw his chance, and quickly downed Spritle's ice cream.

 Trixie laughed. “Revoked?” she said, smiling.

 Spritle grinned. “Yeah! That's it! That's the word!”

 Spritle turned back to his ice cream. All that was left of it was the cone! “Hey! No fair, Chim Chim!” the little boy cried out in dismay. “Chim Chim stole my vanilla ice cream!”

Suddenly, he leaned over the seat. There was one way to remedy that situation---sweet-talk Trixie, into buying him another cone! “Hey, Trixie. I told you about the letter I gave Speed from the Masked Racer, so buy me some more ice cream!” Spritle said, giving Trixie his sweetest smile.

Trixie shook her head. “Spritle Racer, what would your parents say? Why, you've eaten so much already, I just may have to buy you some tummy medicine!”

She went to switch on the CB radio. Speed was always tuned to the same channel, so usually Trixie could reach him via the CB.  _ “ **Trixie calling Speed. Come in, Speed,”** _ ** she tried.  _ “ **Speed? Are you there?”** _ **

The only response was the static from the radio. That was unusual, Trixie told herself. Speed was usually so prompt about answering his radio calls. She was beginning to really worry now; she didn't know what that letter from Racer X had said, but something told her that it might have had something to do with Speed's disappearance.

 Trixie sighed. “I guess we'd better check with the Masked Racer himself,” she reasoned. It was a good thing the news crews had followed the man to his home last night. She knew exactly, how to get there.

 Spritle grinned. “I sure am glad I told you, Trixie. I just know we'll find Speed!”

Uh...Spritle? Are you sure you don't mean.. _.Speed, and a trunkful of trouble??_

 

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Meanwhile, over at Racer X's place...

It was close to five-thirty in the morning when Speed finally opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room through the closed curtains. “Where am I?” he asked groggily. “I can't remember a thing. What happened?”

He sat up, and squinted his eyes. For a moment, he thought the worst---that he'd been kidnapped. But as the fog in his brain began to clear, he started to note his surroundings. He was in bed, a bathrobe over his clothes. The modern-looking apartment was filled with racing trophies, photos of race cars, and numerous books on racing .

 Curious, Speed got out of bed and walked around. A table against the wall held a vase filled with white roses. Speed noticed the flowers, then went to sniff at them. _White roses,_ he mused. _Mom always loved white roses. They're her favorite._

Just then, something else caught the young man's eye. Over an orange armchair a white racing suit was draped, and next to it was a black mask. Speed saw the mask, picked it up, and gasped. “This belongs to Racer X!” he cried out.

Now, things started to come back to him. The events of last night. The race in the rain...The logs tumbling down the mountain, and the Mach 5 slamming into them... _ Racer X must've saved me, and brought me to his house,  _ Speed realized.

He heard the patter of water in a shower in the next room. The Masked Racer was in there, getting ready for the day's racing work...without his mask. Speed grinned, seeing his chance. “Now I can find out who he really is,” he said, fingering the mask in his hands.

 He looked at the mask in his hands. Instantly, his curiosity was aroused. What was it like, to be the Masked Racer? he wondered.

 Impulsively, without a second's thought, Speed put on the mask. For a second he let his mind wander, imagining what it would be like to be behind the wheel of a race car and not have anyone know who you were. The Masked Racer's identity was a real mystery, but Speed had just been handed a rare opportunity to learn the truth. Still wearing his host's mask, the over-curious teen carefully tip-toed his way toward the shower door.

 Unaware, he wasn't alone.

  _Creeeeak._

 Speed heard a noise coming from behind. Startled, he spun around to find a man wearing a trenchcoat, hat and sunglasses standing there. Before Speed could cry out, the man raised his arm to strike him.

_ Clunk!!!  _ The blow caught Speed by surprise. He dropped to the floor like a lead weight, with a loud groan. Another man in a trenchcoat appeared, and helped his pal carry the unconscious youth outside to a waiting car. They dumped Speed into the back seat of a white convertible, where two more thugs waited. “OK, boys. We got Racer X this time!” one of the men announced, convinced that they had truly trapped the mysterious Masked Racer.

 Uh...You sure about that, buddy? Looks can be deceiving---and boy, will you losers soon find that out in a big way!

The two kidnappers climbed into the front seat and revved up the engine. Just then Trixie pulled up in her yellow convertible, and Spritle excitedly pointed to who he thought, was Racer X. “There! There's the Masked Racer!” Speed's baby brother yelled out.

 Trixie got out of her car. Casually, she walked over to the driver of the white convertible. “Excuse me, sir. Have any of you seen Speed Racer?” she politely inquired.

 “Sorry, girlie, we haven't seen him,” said the fellow sitting next to the driver. “So long!”

 Trixie frowned. That didn't seem like the Masked Racer, at all. He was always so...So polite, and gentlemanly. Why was he purposely ignoring her now? And just what was he doing with these rude men, anyways? “I thought Speed might be with the Masked Racer,” she said hopefully.

 The thug glared at her. “Well, he's not!” he snapped, then took off in a hurry.

 Trixie stood there, looking very annoyed as the white convertible sped off into the distance. “Well, I never! The Masked Racer pretends to be asleep. What kind of man would do that?” she pouted.

 She hurried back to her car. Almost immediately, she saw that the back seat was empty. “Now where did Spritle and Chim Chim disappear to?” Trixie wondered, and then it hit her. If she knew Spritle and Chim Chim...Trixie looked back at the speeding white convertible. Just as she suspected, the two little juvenile miscreants had made themselves at home in the trunk of the kidnappers' car, and were peeking out of it!

 Then, they closed the trunk lid.

 Trixie groaned in dismay. “Oh, no. Not this again!” she cried out. “No wonder Speed gets so uptight about those two and their trunk habits. They're always finding new ways of getting into trouble!”

 Still, she had to wonder. What did Spritle and Chim Chim see, that she hadn't? _They must have been suspicious of the Masked Racer and his friends. But why?_

 Trixie sighed, and ran to her car. It was bad enough, that Speed was missing. Now she had to chase after Spritle and Chim Chim--oh, Pops Racer was really going to love hearing that!

 But then, who said keeping up with an energetic eight-year-old and his pet chimp, was going to be easy??

Inside his home, Racer X had finished his shower and was in the process of suiting up for the grueling day ahead of him. He'd just gotten into his racing suit and was about to put on his mask when he realized, it wasn't where he'd left it after the early morning's race in the rain. “Huh! That's funny,” Speed's elder brother mused, puzzled. “I could've sworn, I put my mask on that chair over there.”

 He shrugged, then decided to check on his guest. “Speed?” X called out, tugging on his racing gloves as he entered the spare guest room. “Are you awake yet?”

 To his surprise, the spare bed was empty. Racer X glanced around the room, an uneasy feeling settling in upon him. This was definitely odd---his mask and Speed, both missing? “Speed! Where are you?”

 For a brief moment, the man once known as Rex Racer leaned a hand on the door jamb, looking very perplexed and concerned at the same time. Something didn't add up, but he didn't want to be too hasty and jump to conclusions just yet. _Maybe Speed went to the garage, to check on the Mach 5. I'll have a look there,_ Racer X told himself.

He stopped briefly into his bedroom to get another mask (he always had a few spares on hand, it seemed). Then he started for the garage. He had barely walked over to the front door when he noticed, it was slightly ajar. “Hmm! That's strange. I'm sure, I locked the door last night when we came in---”

 X moved in for a closer look. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. The lock on the door had been physically forced. “Oh, damn!” the Masked Racer swore lightly, alarmed. “I hope what I think happened to Speed, didn't!”

Unfortunately, it had. The roar of an engine and the squeal of tires in the distance told Speed's brother everything he needed to know, and it confirmed his worst fears. Thanks to Speed's natural curiosity about Racer X's mask and his identity, someone had mistaken him for the Masked Racer and abducted him instead!

 

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Speed's assailants, meanwhile, had opened up a very large lead over Trixie. They were at least three-quarters of a mile away from Racer X's house when the white convertible suddenly made a left-hand turn off the main road and drove deep into the woods. The driver pulled the car to a stop, and one of the other thugs got out. Speed was still out like a light, so he never knew what was going on around him. There was a slight “click” sound. Then, a new license plate slid down over the original, hiding the old plate. The man who jumped out began to peel away at the white covering on the car, eventually revealing a bright red finish beneath the outer coating.

Clever. Ver-ry clever.

The thug got back into the car and signalled for the driver to take off, which he did. Soon the kidnappers were back in the main road just as Trixie caught up. She had to suddenly blink twice, however, when she saw a red convertible pull out in front of her. “Hey! Wait a minute, I thought I was supposed to be chasing a white car!” Trixie exclaimed, baffled. “Where'd that fellow come from? Now I'll never be able to locate Spritle and Chim Chim!”

 You were right, Trixie. It's the same car---just with a real dirty trick over its paint job. And, three very valuable pieces of cargo as well.

 While both Trixie and Racer X pondered their respective dilemmas, Speed's captors made good their escape. The red car took yet another left-hand turn down another wooded road. Eventually it pulled up in front of a magnificent A-frame shaped mansion, and stopped. Four sets of strong arms pulled the still-unconscious Speed from the car and dragged him into the house, where he was quickly tied to a chair. Two thugs stood guard on either side of the teen, guns drawn.

Outside, the trunk lid creaked open. Out popped Spritle and Chim Chim, up to their usual hijinks. They raced to the nearest window to watch what was going on inside. “Come on, Chim Chim. We gotta see what's going on!” the little boy whispered. “The Masked Racer's in real danger!”

They quietly observed the action inside the house. Shortly afterwards a short, fat, balding man in a suit came downstairs, and stepped in front of his captive. He smugly introduced himself as Mr. Wiley.

Spritle's brown eyes went wide. He knew that man---Mr. Wiley, of the Alpha Team! And the thin guy in the green suit and the glasses---he'd been in Pops' office yesterday morning, trying to convince Pops into letting Speed sign with the Alpha Team for today's race! “Ahhh!!! That's Mr. Wiley, Chim Chim. He runs the Alpha Team!”

Wiley was now addressing his captive. “Welcome, Masked Racer, to my humble home,” he said, grinning like the snake he was. “Make yourself comfortable. You'll be staying here, until the Trans-Country Race is through.”

 At this point, Speed was just beginning to come to. He groaned, shook his head, and quickly realized that he couldn't move. It didn't take him very long to figure out, just what had happened. It was the mask---this Wiley fellow wanted the Masked Racer out of the race for some reason. And because Speed was wearing the man's mask, Wiley's thugs assumed he was Racer X. _That's why I've been kidnapped and tied up! Well, I'd better keep my mouth shut,_ Speed told himself, trying to keep his emotions in check for the time being. _I'll make my move, when the time comes._

 His captor was speaking---no. More like, _bellowing!---_ again. “You think you're so clever, keeping your identity a secret,” Wiley bellowed in a voice that was so reminiscent of Speed's dad when he was angry. He poked at Speed hard with his walking stick. “Well, your secret is over now, Masked Racer. I'm about to find out who you really are, and soon the whole world will know!”

He motioned to his men with a nod of the head. “Go ahead. Remove the mask!” Wiley demanded.

 “Yes, sir!” One of the men stepped forward. He grabbed the top of the mask, and pulled hard. Off came the mask---revealing Speed's face instead of Racer X's!

 _Ooh-ooh! Double trouble, anyone??_

 

 


	7. 'R' Is For Racer--And, Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision to hold Speed and Spritle for ransom.

 

 

Chapter 7.  _ 'R' Is For Racer—-And, Ransom _

 

 

 _**Fill my eyes** _

_**With that double vision.** _

_**No disguise** _

_**For that double vision.** _

_**Ooh---when it gets through to me** _

_**It's always new to me** _

_**Oh, double vision always seems to get the best of me.---The best of me!** _

 

_ **\---Foreigner, “Double Vision”---** _

 

 

For several long, tense minutes the tiny, dimly-lit downstairs room in Jack Wiley's mansion fell dead silent. Nobody could had possibly foreseen this unexpected bump in the road coming. Speed sat in the chair he was tied to, giving his kidnappers the ugliest, iciest look he could. To be truthful, ugliest wasn't the actual word to describe the look the helpless teenager was shooting Wiley and his men. It was more like, an icy laser--beam stare. 

 The thugs were completely stunned. “What!” an irate Wiley shouted, having finally regained his voice after the initial shock had worn off. “This is---that's impossible. _You're not Racer X!”_

 At the window, even Spritle and Chim Chim had been fooled. “Yow! It's my brother!” Spritle cried out. “Speed was trying to be the Masked Racer, Chim Chim!”

A fuming Speed managed to push off the ropes holding him to the chair---they obviously hadn't been tied very tightly. He stood up, took off the bathrobe he was wearing, and threw it to the ground. Without really thinking he began to clench then unclench his fists repeatedly, a definite warning to anyone who had even an inkling of going after him. Speed wasn't happy---and when he wasn't happy, fists were sure to fly.

One of the thugs---a tall, beak-nosed, dour-looking fellow---standing next to the young racer looked rather angry. “Wait, what's this? You put on the Masked Racer's mask just to make fools of us, kid?” he snarled at Speed.

Speed stood his ground. “You're wrong,” he shot back coldly. “I was trying on the mask when somebody snuck up behind me, and knocked me out. It's not my fault, your man made a mistake.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes. It was all starting to come together for him now. “It makes sense to me, now. Everyone thinks the Masked Racer causes all those crashes when he races. But he's really innocent, isn't he? You and your men are behind the sabotage, aren't you?” Speed glared icily at his captors.

His older adversary laughed. He had to admit, this boy was smart. Too smart for his own good, even. “Don't get excited, kid. That's nothing for you to be concerned about,” Wiley replied with a sneer. “So don't waste your time, trying to find out the truth.”

Outside the small window, Spritle looked worried. Not about whether Speed could handle himself with such odds against him----the youngster had seen his big brother in action enough to know, he was quite capable of handing out some serious butt-kicking to anyone who dared try to mess with him, his girfriend, or any member of his family! But Speed, against a roomful of goons with guns though...That was a different story. “We'd better find Trixie!” Spritle urged Chim Chim, who nodded eagerly in agreement.

 He turned to run---only to bump right into Mr. Fixer, Mr. Wiley's right-hand man. “Ahhhh!!!” Spritle yelled, bug-eyed with terror.

 The thin man suddenly grabbed Spritle and Chim Chim by the straps of their red overalls. He proceeded to carry the pair inside the house, right to where Wiley and his men were. “Hey, Boss! I caught these two snooping outside,” Fixer announced, smirking.

Speed suddenly gasped out loud, alarmed by the sight of his little brother squirming in Fixer's grip. “Spritle! What are you and Chim Chim doing here?” he cried out. “I thought, you'd be at home in bed---!”

“Well, I was gonna ask you, the same thing! How come you let these men take you here, Speed?” Spritle retorted. He stopped squirming briefly. “Don'tchya know? These guys are part of the Alpha Team!”

Speed's face drained of color then. “What!! Are you serious?”

“Uh, huh. I recognize this guy.” Spritle nodded up at Fixer. “Speed, he's the one who came to Pops' office yesterday morning and offered Pops a whole buncha money for you to join the Alpha Team for the big race today!”

A scowling Speed turned to face his smug-looking captor. “So that's it! I get it now. You're afraid the Masked Racer'll beat your team, so you wanted to capture him and keep him from racing!” he snapped. Already, the infamous Racer temper began to show itself in his deep blue eyes. “Well, it's not going to work!”

“It's too bad you've discovered my plans, boy,” Wiley said darkly. “Because now, we'll have to keep you out of the race, too.”

He snapped his fingers. “Take care of Speed, and his little brother.”

Before Speed could react, Wiley's men lunged forward and immediately grabbed his arms. Speed struggled and tried desperately to fight back, but the four muscle men had him in a viselike grip that was impossible to break. “Run, Spritle! Run, Chim Chim!” Speed yelled desperately.

Unfortunately for Spritle, he wasn't able to break free. But Chim Chim? He had other ideas. He swung up, and bit Mr. Fixer on the arm! “Yeee—OWWWW!!!” the man screamed, letting go of his grip on Chim Chim.

“Hurry, Chim Chim! Go find Trixie and Pops!” Speed shouted, still struggling vainly in his captors' grip.

Chim Chim wasted no further time. The little chimpanzee raced out the door as fast as he could. Jumping into the nearest tree, he used his powerful arms to swing from treetop to treetop, always staying out of range of any firepower the crooks had.

Fixer tried to go after the chimp, but his boss held him back. “Let him get away,” Wiley said, chuckling. “Monkeys can't talk. And, besides. We need to figure out what to do, with these two.” He stared hard at Speed and Spritle. Speed was stone-faced, but poor Spritle was shaking in his sneakers.

Wiley nodded to his men. “Take Speed Racer to the cellar, and tie 'em up. Make sure the ropes are tight this time,” he ordered. “Take the kid with you. I'll be down shortly, to deal with them.”

Speed's blue eyes really burned with anger now as he and Spritle were hustled up one set of stairs at gunpoint. It really bothered him to see his little brother this scared, but there was nothing he could do to ease the situation. Two of the thugs were busy tying their hands behind them, and none too gently at that.

Speed looked down at his frightened brother, and bit down on his lip. If only there were some way out... _ Don't worry, Spritle, we'll get out of this. Somehow,  _ he silently vowed, as the men forced them down another flight of stairs.  _ I promise! _

 

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Chim Chim, meanwhile, continued his frantic escape through the trees until he finally reached the highway and jumped down onto the roadway. He was good at swinging through trees, but he needed a faster means of finding Trixie. Luckily for the chimp, a farm truck rumbled past. Chim Chim hastily jumped onto the back of the truck, perching himself on a bale of hay and away he went. He soon found that the truck wasn't going fast enough for his liking, so when a blue sports car roared up behind the farm truck Chim Chim leapt off onto the roof of the other car. Wind whipped through his fur as the car sped down the road. Now, that was more Chim Chim's style of transport!

Chim Chim kept a close eye out for Trixie. Happily, his search wasn't a long one, as he spotted the yellow convertible at a gas station. Trixie had gotten out, and was talking to the station attendant.

Suddenly, the blue car came to a dead stop at a red light. Screeching wildly, Chim Chim tumbled off the roof of the car and onto the hood, startling the driver into one loud, long scream.

Sheesh! Nice way to give someone a heart attack now, isn't it?

For Chim Chim, there wasn't time to apologize. He had to get Trixie's attention---fast. He ran over to where she was talking to the attendant. “---It was a big, white convertible---I mean a big, red convertible,” she was correcting herself. “Anyways, it was a convertible and it changed color. I didn't know it was the same car, until I stopped following it. Did you see it?”

The attendant merely scratched his head, totally confused. He had no idea of what Trixie was talking about.

Suddenly, Chim Chim tugged on Trixie's shirt. She looked down, and gasped. “Chim Chim! Where did you come from?” she exclaimed. “And where's Spritle?”

Chim Chim jumped up on the trunk of Trixie's car, chattering excitedly. He began jumping up and down, waving his arms and making motions to indicate, someone's hands were tied. Then he pointed out to the road. “What are you saying, Chim Chim? Are you trying to say that Speed and Spritle are in some kind of trouble?” Trixie asked, doing a good job of interpreting the chimp's actions. “They're tied up...You're going to show me the way there, is that it?”

Chim Chim nodded.  _ Eek eek eek!!  _ was his excited response.

Trixie headed for the car. “Well, then, let's go!” she said, and Chim Chim hopped into the car behind her. “We've got to help Speed and Spritle. Before their dad blows a gasket at me!”

The station attendant watched as Trixie peeled out of the gas station and back onto the main road. He shook his head in bewilderment. These were the strangest customers, he'd had so far today!

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Trixie poured on the speed as Chim Chim kept a lookout for the turnoff that would lead them to the kidnappers' hideout. It took some time, but at last Chim Chim spotted the side road, and started to chatter anxiously. One problem---a work crew had established itself at the entrance to the street, working on a manhole. Traffic was being detoured. “Oh, no!” Trixie cried out in dismay. “A fine time for the electric people to be working where we've got to go!”

As she tried to turn down the road one of the utility workers hailed her. “Excuse me, miss. You can't go down there,” he informed Trixie. “We're working on some underground lines. This road will be closed off, for the next few hours. You'll have to follow the signs and detour.”

“But I can't detour! This is urgent!” Trixie protested, looking very anxious.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. But we can't let you down that road. You'll have to find another route, to get to your destination.” The man went back to his work area.

For a moment, Trixie sat behind the wheel, letting the engine idle while she tried to figure out her next move. This was a total disaster---Speed and Spritle were in trouble, and she couldn't get to them. All because someone decided to do some manhole work---!

 _What was she going to tell their parents??_

 

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Jack Wiley accompanied his thugs down to the basement, intending to make sure his captives were settled without too much difficulty. For Speed and his little brother Spritle, trying to navigate a flight of semi-rickety wooden stairs with their hands tied behind their backs was a particularly trying event, especially when the lead thug behind them had a gun trained on them. “Come on, kid. Faster!” the man in the trench coat barked at Speed. A second man was already at the bottom of the stairs, having literally carried a yelling Spritle under his arm.

Speed felt his anger rising. “I'd like to see you try this,” he muttered irritably. “You try going down a flight of stairs, when you can't hang on to anything!”

At length, the brothers were forced to sit on the damp, cold cement floor. All around them were stacks of old oil drums and other containers, a few gasoline cans and the like. The place was dimly illuminated by one or two bare overhead lightbulbs...Wiley watched the proceedings with smug satisfaction, puffing away on a cigar, something that clearly annoyed Speed no end. “You won't get away with this!” he hissed, through clenched teeth.

Wiley stared at him coldly. He had the upper hand here, and he knew it. “Oh, save your breath, kid! You're not going anywhere, so you might as well just relax and forget about racing today,” the stout owner of Alpha Team caustically remarked, flicking the ash from his cigar on the floor.

Speed bristled. No one told him, Speed Racer, what to do—by hook or by crook he would get Spritle and himself out of this fix, and make that race. He glared at his captors. “Boy, wouldn't the Racing Committee love to know, what  _ you've _ been up to,” he shot back sarcastically. “I hear a conflict of interest, would be plenty reason enough to kick you off the committee!”

Wiley chuckled darkly. “And who, might I ask, is gonna tell 'em? Certainly not you boys,” he replied, enjoying Speed's discomfiture. He leaned in on Speed, almost going face-to-face. “Listen. You may have fooled me once, Speed Racer. Letting my men think, you were the Masked Racer. Mark my words, boy. You'll pay for your foolhardy stunt!”

 Speed wore a defiant look. “All right, I admit it, I did make a mistake by trying Racer X's mask on. But your men made the even bigger mistake, of jumping me in his house—AAAHHHH!!!!” he suddenly yelped, wincing as he took a hard blow to the side of his head from one of Wiley's henchmen. “What was that for--??!!”

The trenchcoat-clad thug with the gun in his hand snarled menacingly. “Shut yer trap, kid! You don't talk back to da boss like that!” He moved, as if to strike Speed with the butt end of his weapon.

 “Speed!” Spritle cried out, in alarm.

The little boy tried to kick out at the fellow who had just slapped his older brother. “You big bully, you leave my brother alone! Pick on somebody your own size!” Spritle yelled, struggling all the while. “You're nothing but a big, ugly, mushbrained hyena --!! Take that!!”

A second kick, and Spritle didn't miss his mark. His right foot connected with the thug's shin, causing the man to yelp in pain. “Owwww!!!! Why, you little brat--!!!” he yelled.

A worried Speed tried to calm his little brother down. “Spritle, control yourself! This isn't the time to be pulling such a stunt!”

Spritle gave him a dirty look. “Why not? He deserved it!”

“Because they have the guns, and we can't do a thing about it, that's why!”

Spritle looked out at the group of men surrounding them, and gulped. “Uhh...Right.”

Just then, Wiley's right-hand man, Fixer, approached his boss. He had an idea about what to do with the Racer boys—an idea which to him, made a lot of sense. “You know, Boss, I just got a brilliant idea!” he whispered eagerly to Wiley.

Wiley looked rather dubious. Usually every time Fixer came up with one of his “brilliant” ideas, it backfired. “Yeah? What is it this time?”

“Well, I was just thinkin'. Remember I told ya, how Pops Racer turned me down flat when I offered him all that money to have Speed drive for us? Maybe we oughta turn the tables on the old man, and really make 'em pay for refusing our offer.”

Wiley was intrigued. For once, his lackey seemed to have something tangible in the idea department. “Really? Do tell.”

A cunning smirk lit up Fixer's face. One could tell, the man was excited with what he was about to propose. “It's simple, Boss. Everyone has a price. And...” Fixer cast a sideways glance at Speed and Spritle, who were now sitting quietly under tight guard. “...And I'll just bet, Pops Racer'll pay anything, to get his precious boys back. If ya get my drift.”

As Fixer continued to explain his plan, Wiley found himself liking it more and more. He stroked his chin in thoughtful silence, taking in the scope of what the man was suggesting. “...I'm talkin' ransom, Boss. Big bucks. Cold, hard cash.”

Wiley smiled evilly. “Ransom, you say? Hmmm! Now you're talking! Fixer, you might have something there,” he said, relishing the thought. Pops Racer had been a thorn in Jack Wiley's side for some time now, and the secret head of the Alpha Racing Team knew that he was just one wrong move away from being found out—between old man Racer and the mysterious Racer X, they had enough clout to shut down Wiley's team for good. Why shouldn't he like to watch his rival squirm a bit? “I like it. I like the idea.”

Already, Fixer was calculating figures in his head. He could only guess at Speed's personal worth, but for the team's purposes anything would be enough to keep Alpha Team running. “Now I reckon Speed here, has gotta be worth oh, at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. But...not only would we get plenty of cash, we'd keep the kid outta the big race today at the same time. And don't worry—I got something in mind for the real Masked Racer, if he tries to crash this party!”

Wiley and his other goons began to chuckle ominously. Fixer's plan sounded like a good one, all right. But to Speed and Spritle, sitting helplessly on the basement floor and taking in the entire conversation with a great deal of nervous apprehension, the very thought of being held for ransom alarmed both of them. What was worse—these guys were planning to do something about Racer X as well. “Speed!!” Spritle hoarsely whispered in alarm. He huddled close to his grim-faced elder brother's side, quite frightened. “Speed, didya hear  _ that _ ?? They're gonna hold us for money! Lots of money!”

Speed gritted his teeth in anger. Perspiration began to run down both sides of his face, and he began to wriggle his wrists in hopes of being able to loosen the tight cords that bound them together. To no avail; those ropes were too damn tight. And despite his own mounting inner fear it was taking all the self-control the young racing star had in him, to keep his quickly-rising temper in check. “I heard! This isn't good, Spritle..Unnghhh!!! Darn these ropes!!!”

Spritle pouted. “I wish Trixie and Chim Chim were here...”

Speed sighed. “I do too, Spritle.” Then to himself he silently added,  _ If these creeps go through with this plan of theirs, it  _ _ will _ _ keep me out of the race for sure! And what are they planning for Racer X?? They're planning to take him out, too—if only I knew how so I could warn both him and Pops!  _

He stopped struggling then, and glanced worriedly over at Spritle. The lad was one scared little Racer, despite his determined efforts at bravado.  _ Poor Spritle. I wish he hadn't been caught,  _ was the older boy's anxious thought.

 Suddenly, Speed winced. Hold on, there was a way out of this mess... _Wait a minute, that's it! Spritle!!_ was the first thought that popped into the teen racer's mind. _If I can just spring Spritle somehow, then he can get a message over to Pops and Racer X about Mr. Wiley and the Alpha Team!_

He squirmed his body towards his frightened little brother. “You ok, Spritle?” Speed asked, in a soft voice.

 Spritle nodded. “Um, hmm.”

A tense silence filled the dimly-lit cellar, as the brothers fell silent. Then Spritle looked up anxiously. Fear filled his wide eyes. “Speed? I...I'm kinda scared,” the little boy moaned, laying his head against his big brother's shoulder.

Speed did his best to reassure him. “I know. I'm a little scared, too. These guys mean business,” he replied. He paused, then drew a deep, sharp breath. He knew he had to get Spritle out, as quickly as possible. Besides, he was the more valuable commodity to their kidnappers; what kind of a threat would an eight-year-old pose, anyways? “Spritle, listen to me,” Speed began in a low voice, gazing intently at his quaking little brother, “I have to get you out of here. You're our only chance of warning both Pops and Racer X, of what the Alpha Team's up to. _ _ They're out to destroy Racer X—and, win the Trans-Country Race by any means possible!”

Spritle looked at him. “B-but...But, Speed. What about you?” he began to nervously protest. “You'll be left here to face those big baboons, all by yourself--!”

“Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I can handle them!” Speed was determined, to pull this stunt off. “Just play along with me, no matter how outrageous I sound. OK?”

Instantly, Spritle's outlook brightened. His big brother had a plan—as usual. “OK! Whatchya got planned this time?” he asked eagerly, and Speed quickly “shushed” him, warning him to keep his voice down.  __ “Oops! Sorry!”

Speed didn't hear him. Instead, he was watching their captors like a hawk, Mr. Wiley in particular. “Let's just say, I'm gonna con the conman. I'm gonna talk our friend Wiley over there, into letting you go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Speed's Plan Backfires!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speed gets a hare-brained idea to free his little brother in order to get help, but he ends up paying the price...

 

 

 ** Chapter 8.  _ Speed's Plan Backfires! _ **

 

 

Spritle was puzzled. “Letting me go??” he echoed. “Gee, Speed, that's easier said than done! It's gonna take an awful lot of convincing--”

Speed thought out loud, carefully formulating his plan. “I know. I need to convince him, I'm the one they want and you won't tell anyone on the outside about this—although, that's precisely what I  _ want _ you to do. So I need your help, Spritle. We've got to give this creep Wiley, a compelling enough reason to let you go.”

“Like, what?” Spritle inquired, very eager now.

“We need some kind of distraction. A ruckus of some sort...” Speed winced, as he tried to shift his body position. No matter what position he took, it was none too comfortable.

 Well, mention “ruckus” to Spritle Racer, and it's like finding a ton of Christmas candy in one's stocking on Christmas morning. Speed's little brother's chubby face lit up. Already, a mischievous gleam filled his eyes. His big brother wanted a ruckus? Well, Speed was looking at one—Hurricane Spritle! “A ruckus?” Spritle grinned. “Hey, I can do that. Me and Chim Chim do it all the time!”

 Speed let out a soft laugh. “I know. And how many times has your ruckus-making, saved _MY_ hide??” he intoned wryly, and Spritle managed a small giggle.

Suddenly, Speed motioned with a shake of the head for him to be quiet. He had spotted Wiley coming towards them, along with his men. “Uh-oh. Don't bother answering that. It looks like those big baboons are coming back for us,” he whispered, swallowing hard.

 He glanced at Spritle. “Remember. Follow my lead, no matter how outrageous I get. I'll give you a signal.”

“What kind of a signal, Speed?”

“This.” Speed winked at his baby brother.

Spritle grinned. “Oh, I get it! One instant ruckus, coming right up!”

Just then Wiley approached, and stopped in front of his prisoners. “All right, I've changed my mind. Bring these boys back upstairs and make sure they're secure,” he ordered his men. “I want to make sure,  _ nothing _ goes wrong this time.”

 One of the thugs grabbed Speed roughly by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Okay, kid. On your feet!” he snapped.

Speed protested vigorously. “Ouuchhh!!! C'mon, pal. Not so rough!!” he exclaimed, shooting his guard a dirty look. “I'm going!”

Another one of the goons scooped little Spritle up rather unceremoniously and carried him, kicking and screaming, under his arm like a football! “Hey, put me down, you big ape!!! I'm NOT a football!!!” Spritle cried out in terror. “SPEEEEED!!!!!”

“Hush, you little brat! Else I'll gag you!” his captor growled threateningly.

The men forced Speed and his little brother upstairs at gunpoint. Once in the elegant parlor, Wiley's thugs roughly pushed the captives onto the sofa. Speed and Spritle fell awkwardly backwards, atop each other. “Ooof!!!”

“Spritle!!!” Speed yelped, jerking his head away. “Watch the elbow! You nearly got me in the throat!”

“Yeah? Well, you get your bony knee outta my butt, Speed!” was Spritle's comic reply.

 “Hey, my knee isn't bony!”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to my behind! It hurt!”

“Well, behind this!!” Purposely, Speed kneed his little brother in the butt, causing Spritle to yell out even louder.

That was enough for Moody, their guard, to deal with. “Quiet!!! Both of you!” the tall, beak-nosed thug snapped, waving his gun at the boys. “That's enough!”

In accordance with Mr. Wiley's orders, his thugs proceeded to tie the captives' feet. There was no way, these boys would escape in order to warn the authorities. “Now what do we do, Speed?” a fearful Spritle asked.

Speed gritted his teeth as he felt the ropes being tightened around his ankles. “Let's not panic, Spritle. But I think it's time—remember what I told you? Wait for my signal?”

Immediately, Spritle understood. Time for a good old-fashioned scam—Speed style. “Gotchya on that!”

 A few minutes later, Mr. Wiley walked into the parlor. He was accompanied by his flunkey, Mr. Fixer. “Well! Have they settled down yet?”

 A second thug, also in a trench coat and hat, made a face. “They're getting' awfully mouthy. And, feisty,” he reported.

“Well, you boys know how to quiet 'em if need be. Gags, perhaps? Or do we need to put you two children down for a nap?” Wiley eyed Speed and his brother warily. He noticed how poor Spritle huddled close to his older brother, and chuckled. “Oh, come now, Mr. Racer. I already told you, what this is about,” he taunted a stoic-faced Speed. “And I have no doubt, you boys overheard our little er, discussion downstairs?”

Speed stared coldly at his tormentor. “Oh, I know your game all right, Wiley! You're not only keeping me from racing, but you're planning to take Pops for everything he has, by holding us for ransom. Isn't that right?” he retorted, fighting back his own inner fear. “On top of that, you're  _ still _ planning to eliminate Racer X today. I hope you realize, kidnapping's a federal offense--!”

 Wiley seemed to be impressed. “How perceptive you are! Smart boy—I like that in a driver.” He paused, and lit up another cigar. “Unfortunately for you, Speed, you had your chance to join my team. But sadly, your stubborn father refused our offer.”

_ Not that I would've joined you creeps,  _ Speed thought irritably.  _ I don't drive with cheaters. _

Still, the revelation startled him. “Wait a minute, you-re—you're joking. You offered Pops,  _ what??” _

Spritle saw his chance to jump in. He shook his head. “Nope! He's not joking, Speed. I told ya when they brought me and Chim Chim in, we saw that man--” the youngster nodded in the direction of Mr. Fixer, “--Offer Pops fifty thousand bucks, for you to join the Alpha Team,” Spritle said, matter-of-factly.

Speed made a disgusted face. “Let me guess. Pops turned it down,” he said sourly.

Spritle nodded emphatically. “Yep! Good thing, too.”

 Their captor laughed, bemused by the boys' back-and-forth banter. “I beg to differ. I see it as...A lost opportunity, which I plan to recoup. Your family will pay dearly for your foolish actions at Racer X's house, Mr. Racer. Literally.”

“Mr. Wiley was willing to pay good money for ya to drive for us, but your father would have none of that,” Fixer gleefully chipped in. The smirk on Fixer's face was annoying, to say the least, and an irked Speed wished he could wipe it right off. “Now it's gonna cost your pops, one hundred and fifty grand to get you boys back.”

While their kidnappers appeared to be enjoying their victory, Speed glanced over at Spritle, making eye contact with him. The older boy slightly inclined his head towards his kid brother—a sure sign, he was ready to set his plan in motion. He winked discreetly. Spritle saw that, and blinked back in reply—he too, was ready to create chaos.

Finally, Speed decided to chance things, and press his case for Spritle's freedom. He appeared very respectful. “Look, Mr. Wiley. I don't want to cause trouble or anything, but get this,” he began, keeping his voice steady and quiet. “I'm the one you want, not Spritle. Do what you want with me, but please, let him go. He's  _ only a little kid--” _

The way his brother emphasized the last four words-- _ ”only a little kid”-- _ was another sly cue for Spritle to start his “bratty little brother” act. He looked up, and gave Speed the dirtiest, most comically annoyed look that only an eight-year-old could possibly muster up. 

At first, Speed's plea didn't seem to get him anywhere with his kidnapper. Wiley wasn't impressed; in fact, he was very suspicious of the young racer. “Oh, yeah? And how do we know, he won't squeal to your old man or to Racer X?” the pudgy, balding man in the suit sneered derisively. “Or to the cops, for that matter?”

Speed kept a perfectly straight face.”Easy!” he replied, quite innocently. “I know Spritle. Just give 'em a couple huge handfuls of candy, and that'll be plenty to keep him busy. And,  _ keep his mouth shut. _ ”

Again on cue, Spritle reacted with comic annoyance. He squirmed against the ropes restraining him, and let out a loud wail. “Speeeed!!!! I can't believe, you said that about me!!!” the lad protested, wide-eyed. “If my hands weren't tied, I'd bop ya one for that!”

Speed grinned, then deviously winked again at him. Spritle caught that wink, and winked back. Fortunately their captors were so full of themselves, celebrating before the victory was even won, so to speak, to notice the brothers' non-verbal lines of communication.

Then came the fireworks---Racer style. Abruptly, Speed's demeanor and attitude changed from good-natured and level-headed, to loud and suddenly obnoxious. Spritle followed suit—if he was the obnoxious bratty little brother before the kidnapping, he was even more of one now! In a loud, rapid-fire voice, the little fellow pretended that his feelings were hurt by Speed's put-down. _“--I can't believe, you'd think I can be bought off so easily! I mean, you're my big brother, you're supposed to stick up for me--!!”_

And Speed? Well, can you say...Academy Award for Best Actor Under The Gun---literally?? _“Huh! The only stick you seem to want lately, is the stick on a lollipop! Or, a stick of gum.”_

Spritle made a face. _“You can keep the gum! I prefer chocolate!”_

 Speed pretended to glare at him. _“Yeah, I know you do! I've seen enough chocolate hand and pawprints, from when you and your little chimp friend went through my stuff. After, stuffing your faces full of chocolate!”_

 Spritle really hammed it up now. His voice rose into such a childish screech, even his brother winced. _“Aaaahhh!!!! Speed Racer, if I weren't tied up right now, I'd...I'd...”_

 _“You'd, what?”_

 Spritle screwed his face up into a look of comic exasperation. _“I dunno!! But I'll think of something, and when I do it sure won't be pretty!”_

 _“Hah! Amazing you can even think, with all that sugar coursing through your system--”_

 _“Yeah? Well, it's amazing, you can see to drive. Over your big mouth!!”_

A look of mock indignation crossed Speed's face. He was doing everything he possibly could, to not give them away—the things he was hurling at Spritle were so out of character for the teen driver, he was having difficulty keeping himself from laughing out loud. “ _ MY _ big mouth--!!” he exclaimed, glaring at his kid brother. “Hey, you leave my driving out of this... _You little trunk stowaway!”_

_“Speed-obsessed speed demon! Nyaaah!!!”_ Spritle stuck his tongue out at Speed.

 _“Annoying little brother!”_

 _“Car-drooling over-er!!!”_

 _“CANDY FIEND!!!”_

Spritle comically growled. _“Grrrrr!!! Girl-watcher!---Speed loves Trixie!”_ The youngster then launched into classic sing-song:  _ “Speed and Trixie, sittin' in a tree/ K-I-SS-ING/First comes love/Then comes marriage/ Then a bunch of little Racers in a baby carriage!!!” _

Speed felt his face turn a nice shade of red on that last insult. _“Trouble-maker!”_ he yelled back, and Spritle had to wonder whether he'd taken things a bit too far.

 Then, he remembered. He was supposed to be as obnoxious as possible—although Spritle made a mental note to himself, he'd apologize to Speed later...

 ...Once, they were out of this jam.

 Spritle resumed the charade, and pouted as only he could. _“Hey, no fair! How could you call me that??”_

 _“Because you're always getting into trouble.”_ The look on Speed's face was priceless—talk about keeping his poker face on!

  _“Speak for yourself! If you hadn't gone and got clunked over the head at Racer X's house this morning, we wouldn't be in this mess!!!--I wanna go home!”_ Spritle feigned making an absolute fuss over being held captive—especially alongside his seemingly difficult and obnoxious older brother!

 _“Well, what about the way you get into trouble?”_ Speed continued to egg his little brother on, secretly encouraging his outrageous behavior with an occasional wink. _“The way you and Chim Chim constantly sneak into my trunk--”_

 _“I'm gonna tell Pops on ya!!!”_

 _"Go right ahead!  And I'll tell him, what you've been up to!!!"_

 Again, Spritle made a weird face at him. _“And does Pops know how you used up all the gas in the Mach 5 last week when he told you, you couldn't drive 'cause you were grounded after you and Trixie broke curfew? Huh? Huh??”_

 Speed glared at him. _“So? I wouldn't have used so much gas if a certain someone, hadn't made the car heavier by sneaking into the trunk.--Again!!!”_

The boys' outrageously hilarious bickering went on for at least another fifteen to twenty minutes. As Speed suspected, their antics were enough to fluster their captors. Certainly, Wiley's four overcoat-clad henchmen were on edge. “Boss, ya gotta do something about these brats!” one of them, of a rather portly sort, pleaded frantically. “Their yappin's hurtin' my ears and it's drivin' me nuts!!”

His companion looked frazzled. “Yeah, I didn't realize, those Racer boys had such big mouths. Must get 'em from their father, or something.”

“I say, let's shut 'em both up. Knock 'em out, or something like it,” a third man growled irritably.

Even Fixer looked stunned at the sudden turn of events. “Sir, this is crazy!” he said, panicky. “They're fightin' like...Like, siblings!!!”

“Well, of course they're fighting like siblings, you dodohead. They're brothers!” Wiley snapped, exasperated with both his men and the captives. “But what do you expect ME to do about it??? I'm not their nanny!”

 At that point, Speed looked to Spritle, a satisfied smirk on his face. He winked yet again at his helpless little brother—their plan seemed to be working flawlessly.

 He then spoke up. “I know how you can quiet my little brother, sir. Send Spritle home, so Pops can stick a big lollipop in his big mouth!” Speed suggested slyly.

 Spritle feigned more displeasure with his older brother. Playing along, he really let Speed have it. “Unnnnghhh!!!! Big-mouth!!! I'll big mouth, you--!” the little fellow cried out, sending a dirty glare Speed's way. “I'll show you, who's got a big mouth!!!”

As Speed had hoped, his captor began to give his idea some serious thought. Dealing with Speed was going to be trouble enough—but did they really need to keep two Racers?? “Hmmm! I think I like the kid's idea. I suppose, we really don't need the little one,” Wiley mused, eying the brothers warily.

He called his henchmen together and began to issue orders. “Okay. Here's what we do. Fixer, take this little brat over to the nearest candy store and buy him all the candy he wants. Then follow him—he's gonna make a little delivery for us, once Thompson's done typing up the ransom note. One of you morons call in the backup drivers, and have 'em come to the mansion---I think we're gonna need a little more help, dealing with Speed here.” Wiley paused, glanced darkly at a helpless Speed, and then nodded to one of his men. “And speaking of young Mr. Racer...Someone get a gag on him, I've had enough of his mouthing off.”

 He gazed intently at Speed. “You think you've won this skirmish. I assure you, you haven't won anything,” Wiley said, looking rather displeased.

 Speed suddenly froze, and swallowed hard. _Uh-oh! Not good! Wiley's figured me out!...Ohh, man, I'm in real trouble for sure! I should've listened to Pops, and stayed home...!_

 And Spritle? Well, he was alarmed at the prospect of being used as a messenger boy. “What do you mean, I'm gonna make a delivery for you?” he demanded loudly. “Do I look like the mailman??”

Wiley chuckled ominously. “You'll see, little one,” he replied, then called out to someone in another room. “Thompson! Is that note ready yet?”

The thug called Thompson emerged from a side room a few minutes later, a white envelope in his hand. “Right here, Boss. Typed, and sealed.” He handed Mr. Wiley the envelope, which was addressed to Pops Racer.

The head of Alpha Team addressed poor Spritle, who was squirming restlessly on the sofa. “You'll give this to your father. And if your father doesn't cooperate—well, you just might never see your brother again,” Wiley said, stuffing the envelope into the front of the little boy's overalls.

That worried Spritle. “Huhhh??? Never see Speed, again...??? Ahhh!!! No way!!!”

He worriedly glanced over at Speed, who was trying to get himself a little more comfortable but failing miserably. “Speed...”

 His brother shook his head. For once, Speed looked defeated. “Just do as the man says, Spritle. It'll be ok,” he murmured quietly.

Spritle understood. “Uh...If you say so, Speed.”

 “Hey, Boss!” the thug standing closest to Speed suddenly called out, “this one's startin' to quiet down some. You still want us to gag 'em?”

Wiley glared at his man. “Yes, I do!” he huffed, rather testily. “I want these kids to know, we mean business! Fixer, untie dear little Spritle so he can deliver our message.”

Fixer grinned. “Yes, sir!”

While Fixer proceeded to untie a very frightened Spritle, Wiley's four henchmen advanced on a struggling, shocked Speed, intent on silencing the young man. One fellow lifted the teen's bound feet and swung them over onto the sofa so that Speed was now lying down; two other burly thugs pressed down hard against his shoulders, effectively pinning him to the sofa. To add insult to injury, the fourth man grabbed at the scarf around Speed's neck and viciously ripped it off. “H-Hey!!! Cut it—now cut that out!!!” Speed cried out, wide-eyed in disbelief. He tried to fight, but it was useless; he was pinned to the sofa but good. “You give that back--!!”

“Hold still, you!” one of the thugs growled.

 Speed started to say, “Just what do you think, you're doing??” but he was suddenly cut off. Only a muffled yell escaped from his lips, as the red cloth was firmly tied over his mouth. Distressed, Speed struggled; it was a losing battle, however, and eventually he was forced to give up the fight. He glared helplessly at his captors, his blue eyes blazing with anger.

Spritle looked on, terrified for his older brother's physical safety. He tried to pull away from his guard, wanting desperately to run to Speed's side. “Please don't hurt my brother!!!” the lad wailed, panicky. “Leave Speed alone!”

“Quiet, kid!” Wiley barked at him, exasperated. “The only way you're gonna help your brother, is by taking that message to your father.” He nodded to his right-hand man. “Better get going, Fixer. I don't want to miss the big race today,” Wiley said, with great anticipation.

Fixer merely grinned. “Ehhh...Right, Boss!”

He gripped Spritle by the hand. “C'mon, kiddo. We'll getchya some nice candy on the way to the track,” Fixer coaxed. Out he went, with a not-so-happy Spritle in tow and the ransom note sticking out of the lad's overalls.

Wiley now turned to his remaining goons. “All right. You three, get to the track and set up shop. You know your orders---take out Racer X once and for all, and it doesn't matter how you do it. Moody—how long before our backup drivers arrive?”

Speed's guard scowled. “About a half-hour, Boss. “

“All right. The four of you should do, keeping an eye on our er, 'guest.'” Wiley glanced over at the sofa. Speed lay quietly, trying not to let his anxiety show. Beads of sweat were beginning to break across his forehead, however, belying how he really felt about his predicament. Wiley chuckled, and walked over to him. “And as for you, Speed Racer...Your old man had better come through. Or else!” He poked firmly at Speed's shoulder with his walking stick. Startled, a highly-annoyed Speed threw the fat man a really dirty look. His eyes told the story: there was no doubt that if he were untied the young racing star would have loved to throttle him and give this creep a punch or two, where it counted the most!

He realized, however, he had to stay calm. He did manage to set Spritle loose—now, if only his little brother could remember what he needed to do. Warn Pops and Racer X, about these guys.  _ Wow, these guys are pretty serious about keeping me quiet!  _ Speed told himself, reflecting silently on the situation.  _ I'd better not antagonize them too much, if I want to make it out of this mess in one piece. _

He closed his eyes then, and sighed helplessly. He found himself hoping that Spritle would succeed.  _ It's up to you now, Spritle. Find Pops, and Racer X. Fast!! _

 

 


	9. Spritle's "Sweet" Revenge"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spritle gets his revenge on Fixer--and the boys' parents are frantic when Trixie tries to explain why she couldn't find Speed or Spritle!

 

 

 ** Chapter 9.  _ Spritle's “Sweet” Revenge  _ **

 Unaware of his younger brothers' current precarious situation, Racer X arrived at the racetrack later that morning, ready for the day's work. Normally the thought of high-octane competition thrilled the man formerly known as Rex Racer, but not today. Today was somehow different. Something was already wrong, and Racer X could sense it.

He had this nagging feeling, that it had to do with his younger brother Speed's arrival at his home last night. The events of this morning didn't prove much, but it was clear something had taken place inside X's house while he was in the shower: signs of a break-in... the fact that one of his masks and Speed were both missing from the place while the Mach 5 sat in X's garage next to his Shooting Star...It didn't make much sense, unless....

_ ...Unless the intruder or intruders were looking for me,  _ was Racer X's thought.

He shrugged off the worrisome thought.  _ No sense worrying about what happened now. There's a race to be run. I just hope that wherever Speed is, he's unharmed.  _ Saying a quiet “good morning” to his mechanics, the disguised Rex strode confidently past the yellow and black Number 9 car and over to a huge white tarp. He lifted one corner of the tarp, peered under it, and smiled. Beneath the tarp stood Speed's beloved Mach 5, undamaged after the buffeting it took in the disastrous 2 AM storm-driven race between the two drivers; Racer X had the car brought here early that morning at the same time he had his own race vehicle towed to the track garage, and then afterwards had personally inspected the race car himself to make sure nothing had been tampered with.

 Still, he felt uneasy. Whether it was his Interpol agent training kicking in or the concern of an older brother thought to be long gone from his family, X wasn't sure; but something was telling him, Speed's disappearance was no accident. And the answers might just be found on the racetrack—if, Racer X was lucky.

 

 

 _ SCENE STEALER: WARNING---Racer in the Candy Shop! _

 

“Oh, c'mon, kid, relax. Your brother's a big boy, he'll be fine as long as he behaves himself. Don't worry so much.” Mr. Fixer cast a smug glance at a cross-looking Spritle Racer as they drove away from the Wiley mansion. Spritle sat in the front passenger seat, his seat belt buckled and his arms folded across his chest, looking very unhappy. His mood was such, he wouldn't even look at Fixer. “Look, another ten minutes and you can have the run of the entire candy store. OK?”

Still, Spritle wouldn't respond. He wasn't about to give this guy the satisfaction of an answer. He was still upset about what the thugs had done to Speed, and the image of his brother lying bound and gagged on the sofa was still fresh in the youngster's mind. _ Oh please, Speed, don't do anything dumb, ok? We need you to be all right—Pops needs you, Mom, Chim Chim and I all need you...And even Trixie and Sparky need you!  _ was the lad's silent plea. 

About fifteen minutes later, the old battered green car slowed to a stop in front of the local candy shop. It was in town, some ten or so minutes from the racetrack. Fixer stopped the car, and unbuckled his seat belt. “OK, kid. Here's the candy store. It's yours, for the askin'.”

Spritle eyed him with a great deal of suspicion. “How much can I get?” he asked, slowly undoing his belt.

His chaperone laughed loudly. “Why, the boss says, as much as you want.”

A shifty gleam lit up Spritle's eyes. This...was gonna be fun. “As much as I want...?” he echoed innocently. “And--and whatever I want?”

Fixer chuckled. This was surely going to be an easy assignment. Satisfy the kid with all the candy he wants, in exchange for him delivering that note to his father? Not a bad deal. Little did he know, how badly this plan would backfire. (Hint, buddy: You should never take Spritle to a candy store and tell him, he can have everything he wants!) “That's what Mr. Wiley said, kiddo. Here's the deal: you deliver that letter for him, you can have all the candy you want.” He got out of the car, and nodded at Spritle. “Now, c'mon. We haven't got all day.”

 Spritle mischievously scampered out of the car. “Okay!”

They entered the shop. Immediately, the sights and smells caught Speed's little brother's attention. “Ahhhh!!!” Spritle oohed, his mood changing. He was definitely in candy heaven. “Let's start in the chocolate aisle!” he cried out gleefully.

Uh-oh. Spritle, loose in the candy store—heaven help Mr. Fixer's wallet! Say, do you think Fixer's boss'll reimburse him for this pending disaster?...Probably not!

He raced down the aisle displaying all sorts of chocolate, much to the bumbling Fixer's dismay. Grabbing a nearby shopping basket and carrying it on his left arm via the handles, Spritle proceeded to grab items with both hands, babbling as he went along. “Let's see...OK! We'll get a few of these, a few of those...Maybe—maybe five bags of M&M's...Oooh!!! Ten Hershey bars!!...A nice box of truffles for Trixie, I know she'll like these 'cause that's what Speed gets her all the time...Oh, and look at this box. These are Mom's favorites. It might make her feel better, and not worry about Speed too much...”

He paused. Suddenly, his face lit up as he saw something else—for his beloved Chim Chim. “This box...this box has Chim Chim's favorites!” Spritle declared, reaching for a bright blue box on the counter in front of him. “I gotta get these.”

Having added all that candy to his shopping basket—he actually had a panting Fixer carrying the basket now—he looked around, as if trying to find where to go next. “Now where's the aisle that has the gummy bears?---Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I really can't forget Pops. After he sees that awful note from Mr. Wiley...He's gonna need something to chew on. And he really likes those root beer barrels,” Spritle mused, wandering down the aisles, looking both to his left and to his right.

 Suddenly, he stopped in mid-aisle. His saucer-like eyes widened in comic horror, as the reality of his ramblings hit home. “Yikes!! If I don't bring Pops back something, he'll kill me!” Spritle gulped. “Or, worse. He'll take all the candy, and not let ME have any!!!”

At that point, a panting, exhausted Fixer finally caught up to the youngster. “Kid!” the tall, thin man with the glasses gasped. He certainly didn't have the energy that Spritle had, and he looked it. “Hey, kid. Don'tchya think, you have enough already? We gotta go!”

Spritle looked at him oddly. Then in a tone of voice that hinted perhaps at blackmail, Speed's pint-sized, mischievous sibling replied slyly, “Do you want me to tell the police and the Trans-Country Racing Committee, what you're doing with my brother??”

Almost immediately, Fixer's face turned ash-white. “N-no!!!-” the thug cried out, horrified. “No, no no NO!!! Absolutely not! Mr. Wiley'll be very upset with me!”

Spritle stood there, nose upturned and arms folded across his chest. He was enjoying his moment in the sun. And why shouldn't he? After all, he was a Racer... “Then let me finish shopping! I haven't gotten the gummy bears or the root beer barrels yet! And trust me, you don't wanna see how upset Pops would be, if I didn't get something for him. He'll be upset enough, by your note!”

He took off yet again, this time to the aisle that had the gummy bears and various types of hard candy---including, the root beer barrels. “Now how many bags should I get for Pops, I wonder? Well, seven's supposed to be a lucky number...”

Twenty minutes or so later (and Fixer some 30 dollars lighter in the wallet), a flustered, red-faced Fixer emerged from the shop. In his hands he carried three brown paper bags filled to the brim with all sorts of candy. Spritle followed right behind, his hands in his pockets and whistling a child's tune. He looked rather pleased with himself as he got back into the car. In his own endearing and extraordinary way, the youngest member of the Racer clan had exacted his own “sweet” revenge on the men who had kidnapped both him and Speed!

Lesson to all bad guys who have their sights set on taking down Speed Racer:  _ never _ let a Racer run amok in a candy shop—especially one named Spritle!

 

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It was almost ten-fifteen in the morning when a very discouraged Trixie returned with Chim Chim back to the Racer house. Their search for Speed—and now, Spritle---had proved fruitless, as Chim Chim was unable to lead Trixie to where the boys really were. Now, Speed's girlfriend had to face a raging bull of her own—his rather overprotective father.

Pops Racer was definitely in no mood to talk racing. Ever since he'd discovered the Mach 5 missing from the Racer garage earlier that morning, he'd done nothing but pace the floor of the family's living room. At first, Pops was plain worried, especially when Mom Racer went to wake up Speed and found that his bed had been hardly slept in and his pajamas lay crumpled in a heap next to his bed. And initially, he thought nothing of it when Spritle and Chim Chim joined Trixie in searching around town for Speed. Now, he was positively livid—Spritle, too had seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. “I don't believe this!!!” the head of Pops Racer Motors bellowed, at the top of his lungs, when Trixie had finished her story. “It's bad enough, Speed's missing along with the Mach 5. You take Spritle and Chim Chim with you out to look for them, and now you lose Spritle??? What were you even thinking???” Pops was so red in the face from yelling, everyone in the room thought for sure he'd really blown a gasket this time.

Poor Trixie was near tears. Even Chim Chim cowered behind the sofa, chattering away in comic terror. No one could deal with Speed's father when he got this angry—not even Speed himself. “Well, it's not entirely my fault, Mr. Racer!” she cried out, feeling quite humiliated. “You know Spritle and his habit of climbing into car trunks. He probably got into the trunk of the car of whoever it was that took Speed! And besides, Chim Chim and I would have gotten to the boys if if hadn't been for a work crew digging around that road I was supposed to have taken---”

Pops would not be placated. “Still! That's no excuse!”

While Mount Not-So-Saintly Pops continued his very loud eruption, Speed's best friend and ace mechanic, Sparky, was on the phone to the track garage. He was checking with other pit crews and  drivers, trying to see if either Speed or the Mach 5 had shown up at the race course for the morning practice laps. So far, no one had seen the young racer or his car. **“...** _ **You haven't seen Speed Racer all morning, then. No sign of the Mach 5, either? ...You're sure of that? OK, thanks.”** _

He hung up the phone. “No go at the track, folks,” Sparky sadly announced to everyone in the living room. “Speed hasn't shown up for his practice laps. And there's no sign of the Mach 5...” He quickly checked his watch. “And it's just a little over two hours to race time, too.”

Both Trixie and Mrs. Racer looked upset. “Oh, Speed!” Trixie moaned worriedly.

That news certainly didn't do much for Pops' already-inflamed disposition. If anything, it only served to fuel his already-erupted temper. “I  _ KNEW _ he shouldn't had entered that race!!!” the former pro wrestler turned car designer yelled, his face getting even redder at the thought. He angrily shook  a clenched fist high into the air. “When I get my hands on that boy, he's grounded for a month!---No. Better yet, I'll take his driver's license away,  _ for the rest of the year!!!!!  _ And as for Spritle--” Pops paused, and gasped for breath. Talk about Speed being a bit of a hothead at times---his father seemed to have the heart of an erupting volcano in him! “---No candy, ever again!!!”

At that, poor Chim Chim scampered behind a very worried Trixie for refuge, frightened and chattering away as he usually did whenever Pops got on the warpath. When Pops blew up, no one was safe—not even the family pet!

Despite her own worry over her missing sons, Mrs. Racer hastened to place a calming hand on her hot-headed husband's arm. “Now, dear. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all this,” she said kindly.

Pops stared at her in disbelief. “Logical!!!” he exploded. “There's nothing logical, about our two youngest sons going missing! It's bad enough, we lost Rex because he and I didn't see eye to eye about his wanting to be a pro racer. Now, Speed and Spritle are missing!”

While the boys' dad continued his angry ranting, Trixie and Sparky exchanged glances. If Pops kept this up, he'd soon have a high blood pressure problem—if not an out and out heart attack! “I guess as Spritle would say. There goes Pops, blowing another gasket,” Sparky whispered.

Trixie nodded her head in agreement. “Do you think he gets a discount on all those gaskets, considering how many he blows?” she responded, and Sparky managed a tired grin at the bad joke.

Pops was by no means finished with his ranting. Or, his pacing. “...I should've never let Speed get his license. He's become as difficult as his older brother Rex!” he was huffing.

Mrs. Racer immediately came to her middle son's defense then. As much as she loved Pops, she wasn't afraid to speak up to her husband when necessary. “That's not true! Speed's a good boy. He's hard-working, he's responsible...” Mom paused, then let out an amused chuckle. “... A bit stubborn, perhaps. Just like his father.”

Pops' face turned beet-red. His wife was tweaking him, and he knew it. “I am not  _ THAT  _ stubborn!!!!” he roared, then suddenly added, rather contritely, “Am I??”

Mrs. Racer gave him a small smile. “Yes, you are, dear,” she replied sweetly. “And Speed's just like you.”

Poor Pops! He was really flustered now. “OK, so he's just like me! But honey--” Pops winced, and grimaced, “--do you really HAVE to rub it in???”

Mom Racer smiled, and shook her head. “I'll go put some water on for tea,” she said sweetly, heading for the kitchen.

Eventually, Pops Racer managed to calm himself enough, to think a little more clearly. Despite his outward ferociousness and his blustery manner, Pops loved his boys dearly, and always tried to keep them out of harm's way; although as events would have it, that wasn't always possible. “I'm telling you kids, I can't take much more of this,” he murmured, drained by the tedious waiting. “I'm calling the police.” Picking up the receiver, Pops proceeded to dial the operator. _**“Operator, this is Pops Racer. Can you connect me to Inspector Detector's office, please?...Thank you.”**_

While Pops waited tensely to be connected to the inspector's office, Sparky tried to reassure a badly-shaken Trixie. “Look, Trixie. I know none of this is your fault,” he began softly. “You tried to look for Speed, and Spritle was up to his usual tricks. Pops'll cool down, you'll see.” Sparky patted Trixie's shoulder affectionately.

A worried Trixie sniffled back her tears. “I hope so! I don't deserve to be yelled at like that--”

Sparky grinned. “Of course you don't!” he agreed cheerfully. “Pops is just worried. He's always worrying, when it comes to Speed.”

Suddenly, Pops' booming voice rang out. He had heard Sparky's comments, and he was quick to bellow in comic indignation, “You're darn right, I'm worried!!! And I'll personally clothesline any goon who even tries to lay a finger on either one of those boys---Ooh!!! **_Inspector, I—I hadn't realized, you were on the line...Am I ever glad to get you!”_** Pops' facial expression suddenly softened, as he realized he had his party on the phone. ** _“I want to file a missing persons report...Yes, that's right, a missing persons report. On my two sons---Speed, and Spritle!”_**

 Ho, hum. Just another day in the harried life of Pops Racer...

 

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 _**I really wasn't lying when I told my little brother Spritle, I was a little scared about being kidnapped. I was scared, all right—but now I'm absolutely petrified! Talk about your bonehead mistakes—I really made a monster one when I took the Mach 5 out in the pouring rain last night** _ _ **and crashed, and now Pops is going to have to pay for my recklessness! All his hard work in racing design—gone, and all because I felt that I had to prove myself to him that I was ready to go pro.---I should have never taken the Mach 5 out into that storm. I should have never challenged Racer X, either. Above all---** _ _ **I should have left his mask alone** _ _ **!!!** _

                                                                              _\--_ Speed Racer, on the events leading to his abduction--

 

A drowsy Speed slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed into the parlor through a large window behind him, bathing the room with its golden warmth. Nothing had changed for him, though; he was still a prisoner of the Alpha Team. Lying on the sofa, the captive teenager had drifted fitfully in and out of sleep for a good part of the morning, under heavy guard.  _ What time is it?  _ Speed wondered.

He tried to move onto his side, but the simplest of body movements was just too painful. His entire body ached from head to foot, thanks to the tight ropes with which he was bound. And he most certainly didn't appreciate the taste of his own racing scarf being jammed into his mouth, either.  _ Well, this certainly isn't a dream. It's a nightmare! And unfortunately I can't wake up from this one,  _ Speed told himself, wincing at the thought.

 His eyes, now a little more focused, strayed to the oak grandfather's clock standing in the corner by the fireplace. _Eleven AM. Only two hours until race time,_ Speed thought worriedly, feeling a bit desperate. _It'll take a miracle, to get me to the starting line now.---Oh Spritle, please hurry! I've got to get out of here and make that race, before anybody else gets hurt!_

 

 


	10. Racer X Steps In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spritle gets a helping hand from--who else?--the Masked Racer himself.

 

 

Chapter 10.  _ Racer X Steps In _

 

 

About the same time that Speed was waking up at the Wiley mansion, a nondescript battered green car was just pulling up into the garage area of the race course that was the site of the Trans-Country Race. The front passenger door swung open, and out scrambled Spritle Racer, tugging his three bags of promised candy with him. The envelope containing Alpha Team's ransom demand jutted out the front of the child's overalls. “Remember, kiddo. Get that note to your father, if you value your brother Speed's life!” Mr. Fixer called out after him. “And remember, I'll be watchin' you!”

Spritle didn't pay any attention to him. Determined, he started off away from the car, struggling with his three bags of loot he'd conned out of Fixer. He didn't like the idea of being used as a messenger boy between the kidnappers and Pops, one bit. On the other hand, though, he'd do anything to have Speed back, safe and unharmed. Accordingly, the little fellow was determined to carry out his big brother's instructions.  _ I know I gotta give that note to Pops. But I won't let Speed down! I won't, I won't!  _ Spritle thought nervously to himself.  _ He's counting on me to find the Masked Racer, and tell 'em what's really going on. And then maybe—maybe he and Pops can go rescue Speed, and Speed can still be in the race! _

There was a slight hitch to Spritle's plan. All that candy he was lugging, was slowing him down! “Unnngghhhh!!!” Spritle groaned, trying to carry three bags at once. “Not...a...good...idea!!! I'd better stash this candy somewhere—but where?” 

He paused, and looked around him. The garage area was a pretty busy place, with all the pit crews readying the cars for the race. Spritle shrugged, and bravely moved on with his precious loot. He passed by the drivers' lounge; already drivers were gathering, and most were in their racing attire. A few of them—including Alpha Team's braggart of a lead driver, Zoomer Slick–were conversing cordially. Others were sitting around, reading magazines and such...No one even noticed the pint-sized candy fiend slip by, carrying three huge brown paper bags in his arms, barely able to see over them. He wobbled along awkwardly, hoping to find a suitable place to stash his candy...

Just as Spritle wobbled his way directly into the work area where the various vehicles were being prepped and inspected, the youngster heard a very ominous “ _ riiipppp”  _ coming from one of the bags. One of the paper bags was beginning to split at the very bottom. Still, Spritle bravely plodded on, every so often looking back behind him to see where that Fixer fellow was. It was as he turned a corner, not looking ahead of him, that Spritle suddenly crashed into a tall, familiar masked figure in a white racing suit with a big red “M' on the front: the legendary Racer X.

The force of impact with the man caused the ripped bag in Spritle's arms to finally break open. The contents spilled to the ground in a steady stream. “Oh, no! My candy!” Spritle cried out, alarmed. Frantically he tried to stop up the break, but it only caused him to lose control of the other two bags. “Come back, candy--!!!”

The Masked Racer chuckled heartily, and smiled at Spritle. “All right, Spritle. What do we have here---did you make Speed raid the local candy shop again?” Racer X joked kindly, seeing the boy's distress. “That's an awfully big load, you're carrying.”

Spritle blushed. “Nooo...”

Still chuckling, Racer X stooped to help the little guy recapture his runaway candy. “Hmmm! Root beer barrels—my favorite,” he commented, spying a bag of the hard candies lying among the trail of sweets.

Spritle was caught by surprise. He didn't know, the Masked Racer liked root beer barrels! The only person he knew of who could stomach the things was Pops. “Yeah. Pops likes 'em, too,” the lad said enthusiastically. “A lot!”

Suddenly, he looked up, and gasped loudly. Now Spritle realized, who he'd been talking to---and it seemed like a load just lifted off his young shoulders. “Racer X!!! Racer X, it's really you!” Spritle cried out, in sheer delight. He was so relieved to see a familiar face, he grabbed onto the man's legs and hugged him for dear life. “Boy, am I ever glad to see you! Please, Racer X, you gotta help us. Speed's in really big trouble...!”

Instinctively, Racer X sensed the boy's fear. “Whoa, whoa! Slow down, Spritle! What's the matter?” he asked, seeing the boy's distress. “What's wrong? And what are you doing here all by yourself?”

“It's Speed. Speed's in big trouble!” Spritle comically looked around and behind him. He saw that Wiley's buffoonish right-hand man, Fixer, was still lurking about the garage, and the thought frightened him even more. He motioned for Racer X to bend down, then whispered nervously in his ear, “Uh—can we go somewhere private, and talk? It's real important, and I'm being followed...” Spritle pointed out Fixer in the distance. He was now talking to other members of Alpha Team, minus Zoomer Slick. “Thar's Mr. Fixer, from the Alpha Team. He brought me here,” Spritle whispered.

Racer X nodded silently. He'd seen Fixer once before—with team owner (and race committee member) Jack Wiley. He'd also raced many a time against the Alpha Team, and knew all their dirty tricks. He now watched the gathering intently, noting how often a nervous Fixer would look towards the Shooting Star then back to the other Alpha Team members. Eventually, Fixer moved off in another direction. “The Alpha Team, huh? I know all about that crew,” X said, not truly understanding why Spritle was acting so strangely.

He began to help Spritle pick up the rest of the candy, putting it into the remaining good bags. He then carried them for Spritle. “Come on. I know just the place, where we can talk. Without being spied upon,” Racer X said, smiling at Spritle.

Spritle stood up. “OK!”

The taller man eyed Spritle's loot with wry amusement. “And perhaps, we can also find a spot for your candy. Where'd you get all this, anyways?”

Spritle was feeling much better now. For some odd reason, he felt safe being around Racer X, and he quickly returned to his cheerful ways. “ From the candy shop up the street. The kidnappers were bribing me, into being real good...We just bought 'em, so don't worry, the candy's not poisoned.” Spritle held out the bag of root beer barrels that had been dropped earlier. “You can have a bag of these, if you want.”

Racer X laughed, and took the bag. “Why, thank you, Spritle. I think I will.”

 Spritle followed his brother's idol through the crowded garage area. Already the Masked Racer's car, the Shooting Star, was being prepped for racing. Next to the black and yellow race car was Speed's Mach 5, still hidden from public view by that oversized white tarp.

Racer X led his little visitor to a small back room and opened the door. He ushered Spritle inside, and while Spritle proceeded to flop down into a small armchair the racer-turned-Interpol agent set the bags of candy on the floor, next to a small desk. Then he quietly closed the door. “All right. I think it's safe to talk here. I doubt anyone'll be able to overhear our conversation,” Racer X said softly.

He leaned his tall, muscular frame against the edge of the desk, and spoke to a worried Spritle in a kindly, soothing tone of voice. “Now, Spritle. Start from the beginning, and tell me what's going on. I want to know everything, that's happened so far,” X gently urged the boy. “What did you mean when you said, Speed was in big trouble?”

A wide-eyed Spritle nodded. “Just that. I—well, let me start from the top.” Quickly, Spritle told Racer X about Pops being visited at his office by Alpha Team's Mr. Fixer and another representative from a rival racing team. Both men were prepared to offer the Racer family patriarch, big bucks if Speed would drive for either team. “...And well, I guess Pops had had enough of both of 'em 'cause he turned both those guys down flat.”

Even as the little boy described Pops' reaction, a small wisp of a smile curved at the corners of the Masked Racer's mouth. Despite the strained relationship between him and his father, Rex Racer couldn't help but recall with great fondness, how many times Pops could send people packing with just one loud explosive outburst. Pops hadn't changed at all in that respect, he supposed. “I see. Then what, Spritle?”

 Spritle relaxed. “Well, Mr. Fixer's boss sure wasn't very happy about that. He also wanted to get rid of you, too, so you couldn't be in the big race. That's when his men grabbed Speed, thinking it was you,” he replied.

That set Racer X to thinking. It would explain the commotion at his house that morning, all right. Already, his lawman's instincts were coming into play. “So that's why, one of my masks was missing this morning!” he mused quietly. “Speed must've tried one on, didn't he?”

Spritle nodded. “Y-Yeah. That's what Speed said...” Speed and Rex's younger brother began to tremble slightly. “Now they're gonna make Pops pay for turning 'em down, by holding Speed for ransom!”

He remembered the note stuck in his overalls, and hastily pulled the envelope out. He handed it shakily to Racer X. “Here. I know this is addressed to Pops, but I thought you oughta see it, too.” Spritle began to cry then. He was scared—scared of what might happen to his beloved older brother. “Th-they sa-said if I di-didn't do what th-they t-told me to, I might never see Speed again!!! I don't want them to hurt my big brother---!!!”

A very concerned Racer X hurried to his little brother's side and quickly put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Hush, Spritle! It'll be all right, if I have anything to say about this,” he whispered, hugging the frightened youngster. “No one is going to hurt Speed. Not on my watch!” He paused. “Now, let's see that note.”

Without a word, the man carefully opened the letter. He removed its contents, and began to scrutinize the piece of paper. A few minutes later he frowned, and sighed heavily. “I don't like this. This is definitely serious,” X muttered, very displeased.

He reread the note a second time. While he was occupied with his analysis of the ransom note, he did not see Spritle get up from his chair and move about. A few minutes later, the sound of rustling paper bags behind him caused the Masked Racer to look up and spin around—then chuckle, as he caught sight of Spritle sitting on the floor, rummaging through the bags for the Hershey bars! “What??” Spritle exclaimed sheepishly, unwrapped candy bar in hand, “I'm upset! I thought, a candy bar would cheer me up--”

A bemused grin broke across Racer X's face. “You know something, Spritle? You're so much like your mother,” he said, thinking back to the time when he himself had been at home. “Whenever she got upset, she'd often have a piece or two of chocolate too.”

Spritle suddenly looked at him, startled. “Hey! How'd you know, Mom likes chocolate?” he demanded suspiciously. “Have you been spying on us?? Or has Speed been telling you things?”

For a moment, Racer X didn't respond. He drew a deep breath, then softly, with a tinge of regret in his voice answered, “There's not that much of a trick to knowing that. Don't most women like chocolate when they're upset?” The man helped Spritle to his feet. “Now, come on. Right now we have a more important problem to deal with--”

Spritle's chubby little face lit up. Now, they were getting somewhere. “Yeah! Like, rescuing Speed!”

For some time, Racer X continued to listen as Spritle anxiously went into greater detail about the boys' kidnapping. From time to time the eldest Racer nodded, mentally noting everything his little brother was saying. “There's one thing I still have to ask you, Spritle,” Racer X said, when Spritle had finished, “how is it that you know so much about Speed's predicament?”

Spritle giggled. “Aw, that's easy. Me, Trixie, and Chim Chim went to your house early this morning, thinking you might've seen Speed before you headed to the track,” the little boy replied, a little less anxious now. “When we got there, we saw three guys in a white convertible leaving with who

we thought was you but it wasn't you, it was really Speed looking like you...” The comic rapid-fire chatter of his last sentence forced Spritle to stop, and take a very big breath. “...Anyways, to make a long story short. Chim Chim and I got into their trunk, and rode to this huge mansion in the woods. We snuck up to a window, and saw those jerks pull your mask off, and...Well, they got Speed, instead of you! I told Chim Chim we had to find Trixie to show her the way, but the big guy Fixer, he caught us. Then Chim Chim bit him on the arm...He got away, but Fixer had too good a grip on me and I couldn't get away...” Spritle winced at the memory.

While the lad explained his story, Racer X thought back to the events of the past twelve hours. The disastrous 2 AM race in the rain...X bringing an unconscious Speed back to his place for the night...The missing mask, and a missing Speed come morning light, and evidence of a break-in near the front door, etc.  _ Speed's worst mistake yet! His curiosity really got the best of him this time,  _ was Rex Racer's worried thought.  _ Well, if that boy isn't careful, curiosity WILL kill the Racer! And Pops won't be very pleased when he sees  _ _ this. _ (Meaning, the ransom note.)

He quickly knelt beside Spritle, and gently squeezed the youngster's shoulder. “Spritle, listen. I'm going to do all I can, to help Speed,” Racer X began, his voice quiet and even in tone. “But your father HAS to know about the ransom demand, I'm afraid.”

A very nervous Spritle nodded. “He's not gonna like it--”

“I know, but he has every right to know what happened to your brother.”

“But what about the Trans-Country Race?” Spritle insisted. “It starts in less than two hours, and both you and Speed are supposed to be in it--!”

“Don't worry about the race, I can always catch up. Although I wouldn't count on Speed making it there, even if we do get to him in time,” Racer X replied, gently but firmly. “We don't know the scope of his situation right now, or the condition he'll be in when we find him. He may be unable to drive. Although Pops will be pleased to hear, the Mach 5 is safe and sound—it's right there next to the Shooting Star, under that big white tarp we passed by earlier.”

At that, Spritle comically grimaced and wiped his brow with the back of one chubby little hand. “Whew! Yeah, that is good news! At least Pops can't blame Speed for messin' up the paint job this time...”

“Now I think, it's time to call your parents. I'll bet they're really worried,” Racer X said, reaching for the phone on the desk and lifting the receiver up.

He dialed “0”, then waited a few minutes before speaking. **_“Operator? The number for the Racer house, please...”_**

 Over at the Racer home, Pops had just finished speaking with Inspector Detector about his missing sons. The air hung heavy with anxiety, as the long wait continued. “Well?” Mrs. Racer asked, as her husband got off the phone.

 Pops dejectedly shook his head. The arduous wait had by this time taken a toll on the former pro wrestler, and he looked completely drained. “He said, he'll put his men on the case immediately.”

Despite her outwardly calm exterior, deep down Mrs. Racer was worried about her boys. She could only hope that wherever Speed and Spritle were, they were all right. “If only Speed would call us. Or something!” She daubed at her moist eyes with a handkerchief.

Suddenly, the phone in the hallway rang. “Hey, I'll get that!” Sparky called out. He was the closest to the phone, and he quickly answered it. **_“Hello, Racer residence...”_**

Suddenly, Sparky's face lit up in a broad grin. **“** _ **Racer X! Boy, do you ever have good timing...Uh, huh. Uh, huh...Whaaat!!! You've got Spritle---???!”** _

He nearly dropped the phone, shocked. Sparky looked like he'd just been run over with the Mach 5. “ _ No way!!! Hold on, I'll get Pops. _ \---POPS!!!!” the young mechanic yelled out. “Better get over here. Racer X is on the phone, and he's got Spritle with 'em! He's calling from the racetrack garage!”

The Racer living room erupted into a mass of shocked disbelief and excitement. Both Trixie and Mrs. Racer closed their eyes momentarily, breathing huge sighs of relief that one of the boys had been found. Chim Chim was literally jumping head over heels, overjoyed that his young master was ok. But Pops---well, he was another story. “Whaaat!!!??? Spritle's  _ where _ ????” he bellowed, unable to believe his ears. “At the track??? Give me that!!!”

He snatched the phone from a quaking Sparky's hand. The look on Pops' face said it all—thank goodness, at least one of his rascally sons was safe!  ** “ _ Racer X? Pops Racer here. Is Spritle really _ _ _ _ there with you? _ ” **

At the track garage, Racer X chuckled. Spritle was relaxing in the same armchair he'd been sitting in for the past half-hour or so, enjoying a huge bag of M&M's.  **“** _ **He certainly is, Pops. I found the little fellow wandering the garage area by himself---or rather he found me, working on my car,”** _ the racer-turned-secret agent replied, watching his young visitor with a bemused look on his face.

 

Pops was overjoyed.  _** “ Well, don't you let that boy run off, you hear me? I'm coming down right now to get him!” ** _ he practically shouted into the receiver.

 

A quiet chuckle went up on the other end of the line. ** _ “I don't think you'll have to worry about _ _ _ _ that, sir. Spritle's too scared of the possibility of bumping into the person who was following him, to _ _ _ _ leave this room.” _ **

 

__ Pops was mystified.  _ **“Huh?? Who was following Spritle?? And what about...Where's Speed?”** _ __ he demanded loudly.

 

** “ _ I'm afraid, I can't tell you much more than that over the phone. But I'm glad you're coming to _ ** _ _ _ **pick up Spritle.”** _ __ There was a distinct edge to Racer X's voice now, as he steeled himself to relay the next part of his call. __ ** _ “Pops, I'm sorry I have to be the one to break this, but you and I have to talk. And _ _ _ _ yes, this unfortunately does concern Speed and his whereabouts...”  _ **

 

Can somebody say,  _ ultimate nightmare??? _


	11. Fixer's Big Blunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fixer has Spritle, Fixer loses Spritle...

 

 

 

Chapter 11.  __ _ Fixer's Big Blunder _

 

__ “Oh, great, where'd that little brat get to? I can't believe, I lost him!” Out in the garage beneath the grandstand, a frantic Fixer searched desperately for Spritle. Only five minutes ago he had the little boy in his sights, as he spoke to members of Alpha Team; now, Spritle was nowhere to be seen. “Confound it, I actually lost the kid--!” _ _

He searched high and low, every square inch of the track garage. Still, no Spritle. Passing by the drivers' lounge, Fixer bumped into Zoomer Slick, Alpha Team's new lead driver. “Oh! Zoomer!--Say, Zoomer. You see a kid yea high, striped beanie cap on his head, wearing red overalls and carrying three bags of candy with 'em, go through here?” Fixer inquired, panic setting into his voice.

Zoomer Slick shook his head in the negative. He was a tad annoyed—he was about to do a final check on his car before having it brought out to the starting line. “Naww, can't say I did, Mr. Fixer. But why should I be looking for a kid?” he asked.

A nervous Fixer glanced around him. Then he answered in a low voice, “I was supposed to be following Speed Racer's kid brother around, that's why. But I sorta lost him in the garage somewhere--”

Slick let out an annoying little laugh. “Well, that's not my problem now, is it?” he retorted, grabbing his racing helmet from inside his car. “Listen, Fixer, I'm paid to race. And Mr. Wiley's paying me good money, to make sure that neither the Masked Racer nor Speed Racer, win this race. I'm no baby-sitter, got that?” Then as an afterthought he added sarcastically, “And---oh, yeah, happy kid hunting. And good luck, you'll need it!”

Then, he walked away.

Fixer looked after him, highly annoyed. “You're a lotta help!” he sarcastically called back.

He left the lounge area and rushed back to his car. Opening the door, he grabbed the CB mike and contacted his boss. **“ _Uhhh...Boss? You there, Boss?---Come in, Fixer here and I've got a real_ _**problem...”**_**  

Back at his mansion, an irked Jack Wiley looked up. Three of his backup drivers had just arrived, and he'd been briefing them as to their instructions during the big race---mainly, they were to stay here and help Moody keep an eye on a captive Speed Racer. The trench-coat clad thug sat in a heavy oaken chair next to the sofa, looking like he'd rather be somewhere else than “babysitting” their rather costly prisoner. Speed himself was starting to feel the effects of his captivity: he looked tired, his face was a bit on the ashen side, his whole body ached, and he was decidedly hungry, just to name a few of the obvious ones. And despite the courageous front he was putting up, the entire ordeal was taking an emotional toll on the young racer as well. 

Still, he didn't want to do anything that would make his captors any angrier with him than they were now. Sighing, Speed tried to focus his attention on Wiley, hoping to pick up any useful information from him as he watched the man go the CB set on a table near the overstuffed armchair and pick up the mike. **“** _ **Wiley.---Yes, Fixer. What is it?”** _

A panicked voice greeted the head of Alpha Team through much static.  ** _ “Uhh...We got a _ _ _ _ problem, Boss. I lost the little brat.” _ **

Wiley looked like he'd seen a ghost—or two!--then. His face went completely white, and Speed could see the knuckles of the man's hand that was holding the mike turn white, too. Wiley recovered quickly from the shock of Fixer's frantic announcement, however, then exploded.  _ “ _ _ **YOU DID,** _ _ _ _ **WHAAAAAATTT????”** _ _ _ he screamed, furious.  **** _ **“HOW COULD YOU MANAGE TO LOSE THAT** _ _ _ _ **LITTLE** _ _ _ _ **BOY???!!! YOU IDIOT!!!”** _

Fixer blubbered pathetically. He should've been a lot more careful, not to let Spritle go too far.  ** “ _ I—I'm awfully sorry, Boss, I lost 'em! The sneaky little devil, he ducked into Mechanics' Row and now I _ _ _ _ can't find 'em!” _ **

  _ **“Fixer!!! I am**_ _ **NOT**_ _ **happy about this---!!!”**_

  _ **“B-but s-ssir!!!”** _ Fixer stammered, highly embarrassed. _._ _ **“There—there's more!”**_

Wiley growled softly.  _ **“Go on...”** _

_ **“He seemed to have disappeared, right after he ran into the Masked Racer.”** _

That really did it. Wiley gritted his teeth, and pounded the table with a clenched fist. “The Masked---” he sputtered, then suddenly let loose with a barrage of yelling.  **“** _ **What, the Masked Racer** _ _ _ _ **showed up?? Blast it, this could complicate our plans!** _ _ **”** _

Suddenly, he glanced over at Speed, and smiled evilly. His earlier suspicions were confirmed—so this was what the young man had planned, all along. To send his little brother for help!  _ **“Wait a minute, we've been had! I'll bet, the little brat squealed on us---just the way his brother planned, it** _ _ _ _ **seems. Very clever of you, Speed.”** _

Speed pretended to be asleep as soon as he caught Wiley looking oddly at him. Truth be told, he had overheard everything, and was inwardly relieved that Spritle had gotten away.  _ Good work, Spritle! I knew I could count on you!  _ _ Now if only I could get outta here---there's less than two hours 'til race time!  _

Fixer's voice came over the CB again.  _ **“So now what, Boss? I'm sure Pops Racer'll get that note. The kid took it with 'em--”** _

Wiley was still seething with anger. _ **“It doesn't matter, you nincompoop! We don't need the Masked Racer, to poke his nose into Alpha Team's affairs. We cannot let this man win, at any cost!”** _ __ He paused, and eventually managed to get his raging temper under control. Something had to be done, and fast.  _ **“All right. Hear me out, Fixer. You meet me there, at the track. Act like nothing's wrong. Got that?”** _

_ **“Yes, sir! But what about...What about, the kid's brother? Speed Racer?”** _ _ _ Fixer anxiously wanted to know.

_ **“Him? Don't worry about that one. He'll be staying here. Under guard.”** _ Wiley again cast a glance in Speed's direction, and was quite satisfied that the young racing star was in no position to give his guards any grief.  _ **“With all the headaches he's caused this team, I'm not about to let one hundred fifty thousand big ones, slip through my hands.”** _

  _ **“But, sir! That little kid—Spittle, Sprattle, Spridle, or whatever his name is—he knows the way to your mansion!!”**_

_ “ _ _ **What does he really know, other than we've got his brother? He's just a stupid little boy, who scares easily. How would he remember this place, anyways?”** _ Wiley paused to light up a cigar. He took a few satisfied puffs, then tapped the ashes from the lit end into a nearby ashtray.

_ This guy just made one of the biggest mistakes, a villain can make.  _ _ NEVER  _ _ underestimate a child! _

And guess what else, Mr. Wiley—you've really ticked off Speed this time. The helpless teen emitted a low, angry hiss through his gag, his eyes narrowing in silent rage. How dare this jerk call Spritle, “a stupid little boy!”  _ Stupid little--!!! You're gonna regret those words, buddy.  _ _ Nobody _ _ calls my little brother Spritle, stupid—not even me!!!  _ Speed thought angrily, and shot his captor a very intense stare.

Five minutes later, Wiley signed off. He looked very pleased with himself, despite Fixer's obvious blunder. “All right. I'm going out to the track. Our men are in position, Zoomer and the boys are itching to start, things look good. We'll make contact with the Racers later this evening—so they can know, their precious boy is unharmed,” he cheerfully told his men. “But we can't let the Masked Racer get into the race, let alone start it. Just make sure this one---” Wiley nodded at Speed, who seemed to be squirming a little, “--Doesn't cause too much trouble.”

Moody and the three backup drivers laughed harshly. They were going to enjoy this duty, all right. “Don't worry, Boss. The kid knows better,” Moody replied, tapping the top of his gun menacingly. “He knows what'll happen, if he gets outta hand. A good whack on the head!” Smirking, the thug reached over and poked Speed roughly in the shoulder. Speed grunted, reacting nervously to the poke, then threw his tormentor a really black look. It was really beginning to look bleak for Speed, whether he could even attempt an escape and join the race in progress...

 _...It was going to be a long, painful day._

He wondered how his parents were taking all this.  _ By now Spritle's probably given Pops the ransom note,  _ Speed tiredly told himself.  _ And knowing Pops the way I do, he's probably having a fit about it!  _ For a brief moment Speed felt his eyes water, but he somehow managed to keep himself under control. At the same time, he silently apologized to his family for his foolish actions of the night before.  _ Mom, Pops, I'm so sorry for having put you through all this. Please, forgive me! _

After Mr. Wiley exited the mansion, the four men left on guard duty settled down to watch pre-race activities on TV. Strangely enough, even Speed found himself watching---although being as tied up and gagged as he was, there wasn't much else he could do. “Race'll be starting in an hour and a half, boys. Looks like it'll be our day,” one of the Alpha Team backup drivers hooted. It was clear, he couldn't wait for the race to start.

He turned in his chair, intent on taunting his helpless rival. “Too bad your pops turned down Mr. Wiley's offer, kid. It might've been you driving today, instead of Zoomer Slick.” He laughed, much to Speed's displeasure.

Speed gritted his teeth, and glared right back at the bully. Up to this point, he'd managed to maintain his cool, but now his patience was beginning to wear thin and his guards' smart remarks were starting to get under his skin. His eyes flashed with an intensity that people usually saw mostly when he was concentrating on a race.  _ I wouldn't drive for Wiley, no matter how much money he threw at Pops. I won't drive a dirty race, not like these guys. Not in a million years,  _ he silently reminded himself.

Just then, the TV announcer cut in, his voice rather serious. He was mentioning something about, a “disturbing development.” “Hey, guys. Get a load of this,” another of the drivers grinned. “I wonder who they could be discussing?”

 

TV ANNOUNCER:  _ ...Let's go now to our trackside correspondent. _

_What do you have, Jack?_

 

__ RACING CORRESPONDENT:  _ You're right, Mark, this is a very _

_disturbing development, indeed. Sources are reporting_

 _that not all of the entrants for today's race are here_

 _\---Speed Racer and the Mach 5, in particular. 18-yr.-old_

 _Speed, of course, is a newcomer to the racing circuit_

 _while his father, Pops Racer, is the design genius_

 _behind the Mach 5...Neither Speed nor his car have been_

 _seen anywhere around the course today, and my sources_

 _tell me, they weren't at this morning's practice session_

 _either..._

 

Speed's captors broke into gleeful laughter. They were enjoying the news of his disappearance a little too much, much to the helpless teen's growing disgust. “That's because Speedy boy here, he's just a little...Too 'tied up' at the moment, to race!” the third Alpha backup driver caustically joked., deliberately aiming that little barb right at a very tense Speed.

“Can't find his car, eh? Maybe they oughta look in the local junkyard, for that hunka junk,” the first driver added, and the four men again guffawed loudly.

Speed felt his face redden at those comments. He bit down hard on his gag, straining against his bonds while fighting to control his growing temper. He was steamed, to say the least—boy, how he wished he could knock those clowns into next week, and shut them up! He tried to put up a struggle, grunting and attempting to push himself up on his elbows in a desperate effort to free himself, only to be roughly shoved back down on the sofa by beak-nosed Moody (the fellow in the trench coat). “What's the matter, kid? Relax, you're not going anywhere,” he snapped, glaring at Speed. “Not 'til Mr. Wiley collects his one hundred and fifty grand.”

Poor Speed! Nothing like being caught between a rock and a hard place, is there? Dejected and exhausted, he closed his eyes and tried to lie as still as possible. If only he could start this day over...!

_ And time was running out for him to make the starting line for the Trans-Country Race... _

 

 


	12. The Ransom Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spritle delivers Wiley's note...

 

 

 

 ** Chapter 12. _ _ _ The Ransom Note _ **

 

 

It was close to a quarter of twelve when Pops, his wife, Chim Chim, Trixie and Sparky arrived at the race course. Along with the Racers and their sons' friends was Police Inspector Detector, who was in immediate charge of the case.

A grim-faced Racer X was waiting for them by his race vehicle. “We got here as fast as we could,” a breathless Pops Racer gasped. “Now, where's Spritle?”

Without a word, the masked man led the group into the tiny back room where Spritle was hiding out---with his candy, of course. Once inside and the door closed behind them, Racer X explained his actions just now. “I didn't want to say anything outside, just in case Alpha Team had its spies about. I suspect this was Speed's way of sending a message to you and me, Pops---but the kidnappers used Spritle to their advantage, as well.”

“Alpha Team---!!!” Pops was somewhat baffled. “Wait a minute. You're saying, Jack Wiley had his hand in this? But...But, why?? What does Alpha Team, have to do with my boys?” he exclaimed.

Racer X remained unruffled. “According to Spritle, plenty.”

He motioned to Spritle. “Spritle? Your parents are here,” Racer X said, with a smile.

Spritle looked up from his seat in the comfortable armchair, where he was still enjoying his bag of M&Ms. “Mom!!! Pops!!!” Speed's little brother cried out, seeing his parents there. He jumped out of his chair to run to them, but in his haste he spilled the entire bag of candy on the floor. “Aaaack!!!!”

 “Spritle!!” Pops shouted, overjoyed to see his youngest son unharmed. He rushed towards his son, only to slip and almost fall on his backside after his foot made contact with several of the scattered candies. “Confound you and your candy, Spritle---!!!”

“Oh, Spritle. Thank God, you're all right, dear. We were so worried,” Mrs. Racer exclaimed. Relief shone in her brown eyes.

Spritle reached out to give them both a great big hug.” “Oh, I'm so glad to see you and Mom too, Pops. It was awful!” the little boy moaned, near tears. His mom and dad both hugged him tightly, in an effort to calm him. “The Alpha Team, they've got Speed hostage. All 'cause Speed made the mistake of tryin' on Racer X's mask this morning, at Racer X's house...” Spritle began to tremble at the thought, and his mom quickly tried to reassure him.

Pops, however, had a different reaction to Spritle's suddenly-blurted out information. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, what Speed had done this time to earn all this trouble. “Speed did, what???” the burly car designer exclaimed, staring hard at poor Spritle.

Sensing his dad's infamous temper about to rear its ugly head yet again, Spritle hastily pulled out the only defense he could think of from his candy bag: a bag of honest-to-goodness root beer barrels, a favorite of Pops'. “Uhhh...Have a root beer barrel, Pops?” the little fellow asked, a sheepish grin on his face. “Or two? Or three?...Or maybe, the whole bag???”

For the moment, Pops forgot about being mad at Speed for getting his younger brother into another jam. The candy intrigued him—he hadn't had those in at least six months, now. “Ooh! Root beer barrels! Don't mind if I do.”

He was just about to accept Spritle's offer when he realized what his crafty youngest son was up to. So much for a peaceful day at the racetrack—there went Pops Racer, on the warpath again. “Wait a minute. Are you trying to change the subject, Spritle?” Pops said, eying Spritle with a great deal of fatherly suspicion. “I want to know what Speed did, to trigger your shenanigans!”

Poor Spritle! Being terrified by kidnappers was bad enough. But being terrified by his own father?? He squirmed, under his dad's intense gaze. “Wait, Pops, I can explain!” he cried out. Then comically, he turned to Racer X. “Please, Racer X. You'd better give 'em the note, before he blows another gasket!” Spritle comically begged, before dashing off to hide behind his bemused mother. Chim Chim followed him, hiding behind his little master and making all sorts of loud chimp noises.

“Mom!! Hide me!!” Spritle croaked, and Chim Chim hooted nervously.

Mrs. Racer gave her fuming husband an odd look. “Dear, please! You're scaring poor Spritle!” she sternly reprimanded Pops. “Think of what he's been through today. Now why don't you have one of those root beer barrels, and  _ calm down??” _

Pops backed down---as usual. Whenever his wife gave him that certain look, he was almost like melting ice cream in front of her. “You're right, dear. So right,” he murmured, a sheepish look crossing his face.

He turned to a trembling Spritle. “I-I'm sorry, Spritle. I was just...I was just so worried about you and Speed, that's all.” Pops winced. His face was red, but not quite as red as his shirt. He lay a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. “I'm just glad, you're okay.”

Spritle relaxed, and emerged from behind his mom. “It's okay, Pops, really,” he said, bag of candy in his hand. “Here, have a root beer barrel while you read the note.” He opened the bag, took out a piece of candy, and happily began to unwrap it for his dad.

“Note?” Pops looked somewhat uneasy. “What note?”

“The one Mr. Wiley gave me, to give to you. You're not gonna like what it says, Pops.” Spritle handed his father the unwrapped candy.

Pops popped the root beer barrel into his mouth. “I'll be the judge of that, son. Where is it?”

“Uh—Racer X has it. I thought he should read it, too.”

At that point, Racer X saw that his little brother was starting to show signs of agitation and restlessness. He knew what was coming, and decided to step in before another Mt. Pops Racer eruption occurred. “All right, Spritle, I'll take it from here,” he said, with a kindly smile for the lad. “You need to calm down.”

Spritle suddenly looked up at him, annoyed. “But I  _ AM _ calm!!!---Well, sort of.” He ran back to Mom Racer, and clung to her. Trixie came over, and did her best to help Mrs. Racer calm her young son.

Racer X turned to Pops. He was all business now, judging by his facial expression. “This was on Spritle's overalls when I bumped into him. Apparently, Speed managed to talk the kidnappers into releasing Spritle, but not before they stuck this on him.” He handed Spritle's dad the envelope, then beckoned to Inspector Detector. “Inspector, I think you'll find this of great interest as well.”

Pops snorted. “Let me see that!”

He quickly opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter. As he began to read, a look of shock slowly gave way to horror as the man realized what it was. Pops' face suddenly turned a bright red, and the horror now turned to a seething anger. He gritted his teeth tightly, shattering the root beer barrel candy that was between his teeth. “What!!!!! Jack Wiley and the Alpha Team---!!!!” Pops exploded, furious. “Why, that dirty, rotten scoundrel, who does he think he is??? How dare he try to make me pay money for my son, just because I wouldn't allow Speed to join his stinking team???!!! I'll tell the Racing Committee what his team's up to, and believe me _THEY'LL NEVER RACE AGAIN!!!!!”_

Hoo! No doubt, Pops meant every word of his threat, too...

That was enough to get poor Spritle in a tizzy yet again. “But that's not all, Pops! They're trying to get rid of Racer X, too!” the lad cried, quaking again in comic terror. “The only reason Speed was kidnapped was 'cause he had the mask on and...And they thought, he was Racer X!”

Whoops! Spritle, you should have never said that! A beet-red Pops clenched both fists and bit down hard on his lip. These boys would be the death of him yet, the way they consistently got into trouble! “Unngghhh...SPEEEEED!!!!!” he bellowed comically. “I can't believe, that boy would do something so...So foolish! Ohh, I wish Rex were here. If anyone could talk sense into Speed, it'd probably be him...” On and on Pops went, until he practically exhausted himself from yelling. He didn't realize, that his long-lost son WAS there—and doing everything he could, to help get Speed back.

Still, Pops' latest outburst had everyone on edge. A whimpering Chim Chim immediately took cover behind Spritle, who took refuge now behind his bags of candy. Sparky, meanwhile, nudged Trixie. Both of them looked very nervous. “Trixie? I think we'd ahh, better get outta here, while the going's still good,” Speed's best friend and ace mechanic said in a low voice.

Trixie agreed whole-heartedly. “Um, hmm! Before the volcano erupts again!”

Sparky grinned. “Exactly!”

"Unless of course, you happen to have some ear plugs...”

He shook his head. “Uh...Unfortunately, no.”

Trixie made a face. “Then we'd better get out of here!”

The two teens cautiously inched their way to the door, only to be stopped by another loud roar from Pops. “And where do you think, YOU two are going??”

Both Sparky and Trixie looked alarmed. “Uhh...Uh. N-Nowhere, Pops!” Sparky stammered, breaking out in a cold sweat. He didn't like the look on Pops' face—it scared him, whenever the big man was upset!

“We just wanted to um, give you and your family some privacy,” Trixie added. “I mean, whatever's in that note obviously has all of you in a tizzy.” She paused, then added, “Besides, I want to help Sparky look for the Mach 5. It's the least I can do, considering what happened this morning--”

Before Trixie could go on, she heard someone behind her clearing his throat. It was Racer X. “You can all relax about Speed's car. The Mach 5's right here, under the white tarp that's next to the Shooting Star,” he quietly informed Pops and his group. “I had it transported here along with my car this morning for safekeeping, when I discovered Speed was missing. And don't worry, Pops, I checked the Mach 5 over myself---nothing's been damaged or tampered with.”

For that one brief moment, Pops Racer forgot all about being angry with his middle son. The fact that Speed had left the Mach 5 the way he'd driven it out of the family garage, was indeed a temper-cooler...but only briefly. “Well! Thank goodness for that,” the Racer family patriarch murmured, relieved in one sense. “At least that's some good news--”

Sparky looked worried. “”Still, Pops. I think I'm gonna have a look at the Mach 5, anyways,” he said, starting for the door again.

“Yes, and I'm coming with you,” Trixie said.

Mrs. Racer, meanwhile, walked over to her distraught husband. Despite her rising worry over Speed, her own curiosity was piqued by the contents of the note, and she just had to ask. (Mother's instinct, you might say.) “So...what did the note say?” she asked softly .

At first, Pops didn't answer. He was still too much in shock. He took several deep breaths, in an attempt to compose himself before responding. “I can't believe it. Speed, kidnapped by Jack Wiley,” he murmured, shaking his head and sighing heavily. “Alpha Team wants one hundred fifty thousand dollars for Speed's safe return. We only have forty-eight hours to get it.”

 

 

 


	13. Racer X Takes Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X comes up with a plan to rescue Speed.

 

 

 

 ** Chapter 13.  _ Racer X Takes Charge _ **

 

The room grew extremely quiet then. So quiet, that one could have heard a pin drop. Sparky and Trixie froze by the door, shocked by the news. Mrs. Racer's face turned white, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. “Oh, no! Speed!” she cried, horrified. “My poor boy! How would we ever get that kind of money?”

Pops regained his control long enough to go to his wife's side and try to comfort her. “There, there now, we'll get Speed back. Somehow,” he said softly, putting a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders.

Spritle and Chim Chim, meanwhile, did what best friends always did. They hugged each other tightly—although Chim Chim only had eyes for the two bags of candy that the little Racer was zealously guarding. “We gotta stay strong, Chim Chim. For Mom and Pops, and....and, Speed. Not to mention Trixie,” he whispered, and Chim Chim hooted softly in agreement.

Suddenly, he felt a paw sneak behind his back and into one of the bags. Spritle swiftly slapped at Chim Chim's paw, causing the little chimpanzee to hoot in pain. “Hey!! Get your paw outta there, Chim Chim!” Spritle screeched. “That's not the box for you, it's for Mom! I'll give you your candy, later!!”

Despite all the comedy provided by Spritle and Chim Chim, the situation looked rather bleak to the rest of Speed's family and friends. What a time for something like a kidnapping, to happen—and there was less than an hour and a half to race time. A wave of helpless despair began to set in, and even kind words by Inspector Detector couldn't ease the intensity of the situation.

One person in that room didn't panic. That was Racer X. While Pops and the inspector were quietly discussing the ransom note, Speed's disguised elder brother stood by the desk, resting his chin on his right hand and deep in thought.  _ Pops still doesn't know everything that went down, starting from last night. Yes, it was foolhardy of Speed to be racing around in a heavy rainstorm at 2 in the morning. But he was a guest in my house when the thugs attacked, therefore Pops shouldn't come down too hard on him for that---in my line of work, nobody asks to be kidnapped.  _

As he continued to ponder the situation, it occurred to Rex that there just might be a way after all, to rescue his captive brother. He reasoned that since Spritle was driven into town from the kidnappers' hideout without the crooks taking precautions to make sure the little boy couldn't see which way they were going, it was quite possible that Spritle might remember the way to Wiley's base. With time running down to the Trans-Country Race, action was needed—now. “Pops? I was thinking. Now hear me out,” Racer X said, noticing that Pops was about to squawk, “there is a reasonable chance, we might not have to pay any ransom.”

As the Masked Racer expected, Pops didn't take this suggestion very well. Jittery enough as he was, the chief architect of the Go Team blew up yet again. “What??!! Are you out of your ever-loving mind???” Pops yelled, shocked. “I won't have my son get hurt at the hands of those...those...THOSE THUGS!!!! Of course, I'm gonna pay the ransom!!!”

“Pops, you're forgetting something here! Thanks to Spritle's resourcefulness, we CAN get to Speed safely,” Racer X sharply answered back. “He knows exactly where Speed's being held, and how to get there. Isn't that right, Spritle?” He smiled encouragingly at the youngster.

Spritle's face brightened. He was more than eager now, to volunteer any information he knew on the enemy. “You bet, Racer X! I know exactly where Speed is, and the easiest way to get there. And I didn't ride in no trunk this time, either,” the lad crowed matter-of-factly.

Inspector Detector chuckled. “Spritle, I commend you for your bravery. Why don't you tell us more, about the kidnappers' place?” the bearded police official gently inquired.

Spritle grinned. “OK!”

He began to describe with great enthusiasm, Wiley's unusually-designed mansion. “It was like, out in the middle of nowhere. And it had lots of woods around it. You can't miss it, the front part of the place was shaped like an A...And—oh, yeah. The road it's on, it's called Stanton Road. I saw the sign, on my way into town to go to the candy store,” Spritle said, relieved to have gotten that off his chest. In the background, Chim Chim was attempting yet again to raid the candy. “Hey! I told you, Chim Chim, stay out of the candy!!”

Sparky made a wry face. “Boy, talk about dumb! Letting Spritle memorize their route like that--”

Trixie agreed. “I guess some of those shadier team owners can't get out of their own way, when it comes to pulling off a good kidnapping.”

Even as the boy told his story, Inspector Detector wore a thoughtful look. He was busily scribbling notes in a well-worn memo pad. “Hmm! I know the area Spritle's talking about, quite well. It's roughly twenty minutes away from this track,” the detective said. “We can get there, if we're fast enough.”

He smiled at Spritle. “Now, Spritle, I have something important to ask you. You said you saw Speed last, moments before one of the kidnappers left to bring you here. Was he injured or otherwise harmed in any way?” Detector gently prodded.

Spritle shook his head “no.” The memory of Speed on the sofa was still very vivid in his young mind, and he seemed a bit shaky at the thought. “N-no, he was ok. A little scared, I guess,” the lad replied, struggling with his thoughts. “Those goons had 'em tied up and they even used his own racing scarf to gag 'em! He sure wasn't too happy about that, that's for sure.” Spritle paused, and looked anxiously to his mother for reassurance. Unfortunately his mom was dealing with her own worry over her middle son—Spritle's description frightened her, and she looked as if she was about to cry. “Mom, please don't cry!” Spritle wailed plaintively. “I know we'll get Speed back. Racer X promised!”

At that, all eyes turned inquisitively on the tall, muscular driver. Racer X chuckled lightly. “Well, I can't say I'm a miracle worker. But I did promise I'd help, didn't I?” Then on a more serious note he added, “Inspector? We're going to need a search warrant, for the Wiley mansion and the area surrounding it.”

The inspector nodded. “Absolutely! I'll have one of my men get one, right away,” Inspector Detector promised.

Pops Racer, meanwhile, eyed the Masked Racer with a suspicious frame of mind. “I'm not sure I follow you, Racer X. Just what do you have in mind?” he asked, very uneasy.

The small, tight smile---was it his imagination, Pops wondered, or was that so reminiscent of the times when his eldest son Rex was still at home?? Rex had a very similar smile...He shook the thought out of his mind; Racer X was answering his question. “This. With backup from the Inspector and his men, I think you, Sparky and I are going to pay our friend Mr. Wiley, a visit.”

Immediately, both Spritle and Chim Chim started to jump up and down with excitement. “Oh, boy! The bad guys are in for it now!” Spritle exclaimed gleefully. “What about Trixie, Racer X? And—And me and Chim Chim?”

Racer X smiled kindly at the little boy. He had become rather fond of Spritle in such a short time, but he knew deep down that at no time could he reveal his true self to anyone in the family, for reasons only he, the former Rex Racer, knew. Still, if he could help protect his younger brothers, he would...”I think Trixie and Chim Chim should stay here, with your mom. Spritle, you're coming with us, since you know which way to go. Trixie, I'll have a radio set up in here, so we can all keep in contact,” he said to both Spritle and Trixie.

Trixie nodded. “That's good enough by me! Good luck—and please bring Speed back safely!”

Racer X now turned to the boys' mom. Inside, he longed to tell her the truth as well, as he noticed the woman daubing her eyes with a handkerchief. He walked over to her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just hang in there, Mrs. Racer. I know Speed, he's a very tough young man to bring down,” he said softly. “I'm sure he's giving those crooks fits, right about now.”

Mom Racer sniffled back a tear. “That's the part that worries me! What if he does something to provoke those criminals, into seriously hurting him?” she asked, looking up at him.

“That won't happen. Not if I can help it.” Racer X turned to Spritle. “Come on, Spritle. How'd you like to ride with me in the Shooting Star?” he asked.

Spritle got really excited then. “Really? I can...I can ride with you?” he exclaimed, wide-eyed with glee. “Sure!”

He glanced at Chim Chim, who was monkeying around yet again with the candy, and sternly lectured him. “And you keep your paws outta the candy 'til I get back, Chim Chim!” Spritle said, mimicking his father's behavior. “There's enough candy for everybody—and we have to make sure, Speed gets some!”

Everyone chuckled then. “Don't worry, Spritle dear. I'll make sure Chim Chim behaves himself,” Mrs. Racer laughed, despite her growing anxiety.

Spritle grinned. “Thanks, Mom! And when we get back with Speed, I'll pass out all the candy.” The lad looked up, and saw his elders walking out into the garage. “Hey, Racer X! Wait for me!” Spritle hollered, and ran out after his driver.

He found Racer X just about to get into his car. “Don't forget, Spritle. This time you're sitting in the passenger seat, not in the trunk,” X said, as he helped his younger brother into the passenger seat. He adjusted the seat belt for Spritle.

Spritle grinned. “I know! Besides, if I were in the trunk...I wouldn't be able to show you which way to go!”

 His companion chuckled. “That's quite true, Spritle. You ready?” Spritle nodded, and Racer X inserted the key into the ignition. “Here we go, then.”

Spritle whooped loudly. “Hold on, Speed ! Don't worry, the cavalry's on it's way!!!”

Ten minutes later, a parade of vehicles roared out of the garage area and onto the main road. Racer X and Spritle Racer led the caravan, in the Shooting Star. They were followed by the Mach 5, being driven by—who else?--Pops Racer. Sparky, the Mach 5's ace mechanic, rode shotgun...Bringing up the rear was Police Inspector Detector and his men, riding in three dark-colored unmarked vehicles. The inspector had successfully obtained a search warrant for the Wiley mansion, as per Racer X's request.

Sitting behind the Mach 5's wheel, a grim-faced, very stressed-out Pops Racer concentrated on keeping up with the Shooting Star. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. There was no doubt what was going to happen, when this former pro wrestler came face to face with Speed's kidnappers; they would regret even putting their hands on that young man. Pops would see to that!

A worried Sparky watched both him and the road with great trepidation. Up ahead, Racer X's car ate up the pavement at a good clip. “Hey, Pops! Ease up on the wheel, would ya?” Speed's best pal exclaimed, alarmed. He'd seen just how tense Pops was, by the knuckles on his huge hands. “Else you'll lose circulation in your hands!”

Pops reacted—hotly, as usual. He was beyond angry now, he was seeing red and ready to rumble with anyone or anything that got in his path. “Ehhhh!!!! I'll show you, who'll lose circulation!” he snapped, exasperated. “If Wiley and his thugs lay so much as even a finger on my son---so help me, they'll regret they ever  _ heard _ of the name Racer!!!”

Poor Sparky slunk down in his seat, wishing he could hide in the Mach 5's trunk the way Spritle and Chim Chim could. Or better yet—the trunk of the Shooting Star, so he wouldn't have to deal with Pops at all. To think that he had to listen to Speed's dad rant, all the way to the kidnappers' hideout! “Oh, man, I can see it now. This is gonna be one heck of a wild ride,” the young mechanic muttered to himself. “I just hope Pops will chill out, by the time we get there!”

 

 

 


	14. Hot Wheels, Hot Tempers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The race to save Speed is on!

 

 

 ** Chapter 14.  _ Hot Wheels, Hot Tempers _ **

 

The rescue posse pushed on through town, then onto the open highway. Time was running short—it was well after noon. Engines roared, tires squealed as the drivers endeavored to pick up Speed's trail.

About fifteen minutes into the arduous ride, the Mach 5's radio crackled to life. Trixie was checking in.  _ **“Calling the Mach 5! Sparky? Pops? This is Trixie. Do you read, come in.”** _

Sparky quickly grabbed the mike.  _ **“Sparky here. What's up, Trixie?”** _

  _ **“Have you located Speed yet?”**_

  _“_ _ **Uh-uh, not yet. We're still following Racer X and Spritle,”** _ Sparky replied. Pops was holding the Mach 5 to a reasonable 55 mph. **_“_ _ **We'll let you know when we get there, over.”**_**

_ **“Roger that, Sparky. Trixie, out.”** _

Up ahead, Spritle was enjoying his very first ride in the Shooting Star, the horrible events of the past five or six hours temporarily pushed aside from his mind. At the same time, he kept a sharp eye out for the turnoff that would lead everyone to the Wiley estate—and, his brother. “Gee, Racer X. Your car runs as smooth as the Mach 5!” the youngster gushed, enjoying himself.

 His older companion chuckled, smiling. “Why, thank you, Spritle. I designed this car myself,” Racer X replied. He was pleased to see his little brother's mind on something other than Speed and all that candy, for the moment. “She was built for racing, just like your brother's car.”

“Ahhh!!” was Spritle's awed response.

Suddenly, the little boy leaned to his left and craned his neck forward. “I see it!” Spritle cried out excitedly. “Racer X, I see the turnoff! There's the sign—Stanton Road. Just like I told ya!” He pointed eagerly to the street sign up ahead.

Racer X was very pleased. “Good work, Spritle! I'll notify the others,” he said, clapping a hand on the little boy's shoulder. Then in a silent aside to his kidnapped brother, the man who was really Rex Racer thought,  _ Hang in there, Speed. It won't be long now! _

He reached for the CB mike. _** “ Pops, Inspector? Racer X here. I'm turning left at Stanton Road. Repeat---left on Stanton Road. Follow me!” ** _

**_ _ ** Pops responded quickly.  _ **“X? I'm right behind ya! Just let me at those madmen who have Speed, I'll show 'em a wrestling move or two. On their heads!”** _ _ _ he huffed, his face twisting into a furious scowl.

Then he growled, when he heard over the CB Spritle in the background, laughing. _** **“What's so** **f** ** **unny?”** _ Pops suddenly demanded, the scowl on his face deepening.  _ **“Spritle!! I can hear you! I want to know, what's so darn funny--!”** _

Just then, Racer X's voice crackled over the radio.  _ **“I believe it's the way you put that, Pops. Spritle can't stop laughing now.”** _

Poor Pops! Even when he was participating in something as dangerous as helping the police in their work, he couldn't help but blow up at someone.  _ **“Why, you...SPRITLE!!!!!”** _ he yelled, in comic exasperation.  __ _ **“You just wait, until this is over...!!!”** _ Huffing, puffing, and very red-faced, the head of the Go Team paused, momentarily collected himself, then added in a feisty tone of voice,  _ **“And, X? You tell that rascally son of mine, I'll deal with him later!”** _

Racer X's reply? He merely gunned his engine, took the turn, and disappeared in a cloud of dust , leaving the Mach 5 in its wake, trying to catch up to the Shooting Star. . The other vehicles followed the two race cars down a twisting, winding dirt road, which led deep into the woods. The police vehicles, however, lagged considerably behind both the Mach 5 and Racer X's vehicle.

Suddenly, Spritle got all excited. He pointed to an odd-shaped building off in the distance. “There! That's the place!” the youngster cried out. “That's where they've got Speed!”

Racer X looked up, and glanced in the direction that Spritle was pointing. He caught a glimpse of the A-shaped rooftop, and smiled tautly. The Alpha Team was about to run its last race, if he had anything to say about it.  _ It'll be over soon enough, Speed. We're almost there,  _ Speed's elder brother thought to himself.  _ Just hang tight! _

He waved for Pops to pull over, off road. Pops nodded, and expertly pulled the Mach 5 off to the right. “What's the game plan, Racer X?” Sparky called out, as the Shooting Star slowed to a stop behind the glistening white vehicle.

Racer X hopped out of his vehicle and walked over to the Mach 5. “There's the Wiley mansion, straight ahead,” he told Pops and Sparky as they got out of the car. He pointed to the building in the distance. “Our best bet would to be to get as close to the grounds as possible, hide the cars nearby, then proceed on foot.--We can't take many chances, since we don't know who's in there with Speed, or how many of them there are.”

Spritle made a face. “I can tell you that,” he volunteered. “Mr. Wiley was calling in three of his backup drivers, to help this other fellow watch Speed. He's probably already at the racetrack now, with Mr. Fixer and three other guys.”

Pops comically rolled up his sleeves. He was ready for a fight. “Four of 'em, eh? Those are my kind of odds!” he exclaimed. “Let's go get 'em!”

Racer X turned to Spritle. “Spritle, you've been inside Mr. Wiley's house. Where are they holding your brother?” the Masked Racer gently inquired, laying a hand on Spritle's shoulder.

Spritle thought a moment. “Well, if they haven't moved Speed back to the basement...he should still be in the parlor. It's on the first floor,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

Pops growled menacingly. “Then let's go get Speed!”

Sparky, however, looked doubtful. “Ahhh...shouldn't we wait for the Inspector to get here?” the lanky mechanic cut in, looking around uneasily. “I thought, he was following us---”

Spritle gave his brother's friend an annoyed look. He pouted, then put both of his chubby little hands on his hips, looking more than a little impatient. “He was! But the way Pops and Racer X were driving, I bet the Inspector was eating their dust! Now, let's go rescue my big brother already!!!”

Pops, Racer X, and Sparky all chuckled quietly. There was definitely  _ no _ arguing with this little Racer---sometimes Spritle could be just as protective of Speed as much as (if not more than!) Pops could! Although on the other hand...Somebody had to rein in Speed's little brother's unbridled enthusiasm for detective work. “Now, Spritle. I know you're eager to save your brother from the bad guys. But Sparky's right, we have to do things according to the law,” Racer X said kindly, lightly patting the small boy on the shoulder. “We can't just enter someone's house to search it, unless we have a search warrant.” He smiled warmly at Spritle.

Still, Spritle pouted even more. He hated any kind of delay—especially when he knew, Speed was running out of time. “OK, we'll wait for the Inspector before we go in the house.---But can we still look in the window, to make sure Speed's okay??” he pleaded plaintively.

Pops nervously glanced over at X. “Well?” he asked. “How about it, Racer X? Can we get away with that?”

Racer X nodded. “It wouldn't hurt.”

From that point on, the rescue took on the appearance of a huge undercover operation. One of the main problems facing the Masked Racer and his companions was how to get the two race cars onto the grounds of the Wiley estate, without being spotted. But he and Pops managed it so effectively, that none of mansion's security systems even picked them up...After the cars were hidden out of sight Spritle led his father, Sparky, and Racer X over to the house, straight to a window that looked in on the first-floor parlor. Kneeling under the window, the foursome peered in...

What they saw, was more than Pops Racer could take. He caught sight of Speed lying on the sofa, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and looking absolutely miserable. One of the Alpha Team backup drivers stood over him, grinning maliciously. He appeared to be taunting the squirming, helpless teenager. Naturally, Speed's dad was infuriated. “Why, those dirty rotten...Scoundrels!!!” he suddenly exploded, clenching his fists tightly and shaking with anger. “Look what they've done to my boy!!! Why, I ought to just...N-unnggghhh!!! Oh,I don't know what I'll do!!!””

An alarmed Sparky suddenly hissed at him. “Pops!!!! Calm down, will ya?? C'mon, you're gonna give us all away!!!” he exclaimed anxiously.

“But that's my boy, they've got in there!!!” Pops protested.

“Do you really want them to harm Speed? Who knows what they'll do, if they know we're here?” was Sparky's comebacker, and a drained Pops had to concede the point.

He still couldn't tear himself away from the scene in Wiley's parlor, however. A very worried Pops watched as the thugs inside continued to torment poor Speed; the man felt completely helpless at that moment, knowing that he couldn't help his son—not just yet, anyways. It was a parent's worst nightmare come true, and the head of the Go Team hated the idea of not being able to take immediate action. Speed needed his help...now.

Suddenly, he brought a huge fist crashing down on the wooden windowsill—hard. “OWWWWWWW!!!!” the burly race car designer screamed in pain, and comically clutched at his hand. “That hurt!”

Nice going, Pops. That sure isn't going to help your son any.

Inside the mansion, the sudden yelling outside caught the attention of the men guarding Speed. “Hey!! Did you guys hear that?” one of the Alpha drivers said, glancing around suspiciously. “Somebody's out there!”

“Yeah! No doubt, someone's come around snooping for the kid,” another one chimed in. “And you wanna know something? There's only one person I know of, that can holler like that. Pops Racer!” He gave poor Speed a dirty look.

Moody scowled. This was something, Mr. Wiley hadn't planned for. “Well, let's not just stand around here, let's do something about 'em!” he snapped. “You two, take care of Racer's old man. Jock and I'll take the kid downstairs and stash 'em. We'll put 'em under the stairs, that way nobody 'll see him with all those old oil drums and such in front.”

The Alpha drivers nodded. “Right!”

Moody went over to the sofa and roughly picked Speed up, flinging the captive youth over his right shoulder in a very undignified manner. The other driver followed behind, gun in hand. Speed winced painfully, then tried to yell through his gag for his captor to _“put me down!!!”_

“Shut up!!” Moody snapped, irritated. “Unless you want a knock upside of the head, kid, you'll learn to keep quiet. And stop yer blasted squirming!”

Speed's eyes widened in shock. No way, did he want to get knocked out---especially since he now knew Pops was here! He shook his head. _“N-no!! Um-umm!!!”_ He tried to calm himself as his guard descended down the rickety wooden stairs to the basement, but he was finding it increasingly difficult; the entire ordeal was starting to wear Speed down, both physically and mentally. _“Pops...,”_ he moaned weakly against his gag.

After what seemed like almost eternity, his guards brought him to the basement, where he was unceremoniously dumped on the cold, damp cement floor beneath the stairs. “OK. You just sit there, and be quiet. I don't want to hear a sound outta you. Or else!” Moody threatened a squirming Speed. “And no funny business, either. Got that?”

Poor Speed swallowed hard, closed his eyes, then turned his head away. He was sweating profusely now, and shaking badly. The longer his ordeal continued, the harder it was becoming for him to keep a positive front. Even knowing that his father was close by didn't help his growing anxiety  much. He could only hope, that someone would be able to set him free---soon.  _ Pops, Racer X? Obviously, Spritle DID get to you. I hope you guys get in here soon,, I don't know how much more of this I can take! Never again will I go out in the rain at 2 in the morning, just to make a practice run with the Mach 5---if, I make it out of this mess alive! _

It didn't look very good at all...

 

5555555555555555555555555555555

 

Eventually, everything seemed to go quiet once again. Still, the earlier commotion was enough for Alpha Backup Driver #2 to go to the door, to investigate. He opened the front door, stuck his head out, but saw no one. “Huh?? I could've sworn, I heard the kid's old man out here---” Puzzled, the red-suited man stepped out and took a few steps forward.

There was a slight rustling sound coming from the nearby bushes. Then suddenly, a voice emanated from behind the driver. “ _ Going somewhere??” _

The man spun around---and walked right smack into the gloved fist of the incognito form of Rex Racer, aka Racer X. He didn't have to do much more---the driver dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, out cold. “You know? You Alpha Team boys really need to smarten up,” Racer X said, chuckling heartily. “You certainly didn't see that one coming, did you? Either that, or maybe you need glasses...Most likely, you need both. Smarts,  _ and _ glasses!”

He dragged the unconscious man back to where Pops, Sparky, and Spritle were. “One down, three to go,” he announced, dropping the thug down on the ground behind the cars. “Sparky, you and Spritle stay here and guard this fellow. Pops and I'll go after Speed.”

Spritle, who was feeling a little hesitant about even being on the site of his capture again, decided to beat a hasty retreat. “Uhh...If you don't mind I think I'll just stay in the car,” the little boy said, backing up to the Mach 5. “I think I had enough excitement, for one day.”

He quickly climbed inside the Mach 5's trunk, much to his dad's dismay. “Spritle!!” Pops exclaimed, surprised by his son's retreat. “You get out here, right this minute! There's no need for you to hide, son, I'm right here---”

Sparky grimaced. He should have seen this coming. ”Hey, easy, Pops! He's probably safer in the trunk right now, anyways,” he pointed out. “What if the rest of those thugs, have guns?”

At that, Pops paused, and thought about that a moment. He had to admit, Sparky did have a good point. “I suppose you're right, Sparky. And after everything Spritle went through, to get to us,” he murmured, breathing heavily and trying to collect himself. He was getting too old for these...'Cops and robbers' type misadventures, with his youngest boys.

But then a new, even more worrisome thought entered his mind. What if those hoodlums decided to turn their weapons on Speed? “Well, they'd better not try to use 'em on my son!” Pops snapped, his eyes blazing with anger. “Or they'll have ME to deal with!!!”

“They won't. Not if we get to Speed first,” Racer X answered, grim-faced. “From what I could see, it looks like two didn't have weapons—this fellow, and the one standing over Speed. The fellow in the trenchcoat and sunglasses was clearly armed. But I don't know about the fourth man—I couldn't tell for sure.”

While Racer X was still speaking, a fuming Pops mused over the information that had just been presented. ''So two of 'em might be armed, eh?” he muttered out loud to himself. “Then guns or no guns, I'm going in, and taking my son out!!!”

He charged towards the mansion, much to the dismay of both Sparky and Racer X. “Pops, no!!! Come back!!!” an alarmed Sparky yelled.

“Pops! Wait! We're supposed to wait for the inspector and his search warrant!” Racer X shouted worriedly. “You can't go in there by yourself, you'd be endangering both yourself and Speed!”

“Well, the Inspector and his warrant can catch up! I'm going in there, and getting my boy out. RIGHT NOW!!!” Pops was determined to take down Speed's kidnappers---by himself, if necessary.

Just then, the captured driver stirred, and groaned. He was starting to come to. “Uh-oh! He's waking up!” Sparky exclaimed nervously. “What'll I do?”

Spritle had an answer for every situation, it seemed. Digging around in the trunk of the Mach 5, the pudgy little youngster rummaged around until his hand made contact with some tools. Moments later, he triumphantly held up a monkey wrench. “Will this do?”

Sparky grinned. “Perfect! Toss it over, Spritle.”

“With pleasure!” Spritle threw him the wrench.

The very groggy Alpha Team driver was struggling to his feet. “Ohhh, no you don't!” Sparky hollered, brandishing the wrench. “We're not ready to have you wake up yet, pal!” He clunked the man over the head with the tool. Stunned, the thug collapsed with a loud groan, then lay sprawled out on the ground.

Spritle giggled. “Boy! That really threw a monkey wrench into his day. Didn't it?” he hooted gleefully, enjoying the action.

Sparky laughed. “Yeah, it sure did.”

The Racer boys' elder brother shot both Spritle and Sparky a wry look. “I hope you didn't hit him too hard, Sparky,” Racer X said, bemused. “We'll need to question him, when the police arrive.”

Sparky grinned. “Nah, I just stunned 'em.” He paused, looked at his watch, then made a face. “I wonder how much longer it'll be, 'til Inspector Detector gets here. I told Pops, he shouldn't have been driving so fast---”

Spritle sat back down in the Mach 5's trunk. “Well, he was only trying to keep up with Racer X---”

“Well, then, maybe Racer X shouldn't have been driving that fast, either----”

X winced.  _ Ouchh!!! I left myself wide open for that one!  _ “Please! Can we leave the speed of my driving out of this?” he joked. “Besides, Spritle.  _ You  _ were the one who told me to go faster.” Rex had his back turned, so he didn't see that his baby brother was sticking his tongue out at him!

Suddenly, Spritle caught sight of his dad trying to sneak off towards the mansion once again. The commotion with the captured Alpha Team member had initially stopped Pops Racer from charging the house, but having seen that both Sparky and Racer X were now occupied the burly race car designer saw his chance to strike out yet again and find his captive son. “Hey! Where's Pops going?” Spritle exclaimed, pointing excitedly in his dad's direction.

Rex Racer looked towards the house. “Oh, no. Please tell me, he's not---!” he groaned loudly, the small semblance of a frown appearing under the mask. “He is!”

He tried to get his father's attention. “Pops! I told you, to wait!” Racer X shouted, concerned about the potential fallout of Pops' actions. And the Masked Racer thought, Speed was a stubborn one--!  _ Now I know where Speed gets his stubborness. Definitely from Pops!  _

Pops, of course, wouldn't listen. He continued to run as fast as he could towards the Wiley mansion, like a man possessed. Racer X sighed, then turned to Sparky and Spritle. “All right, I'm going to follow Pops. When Inspector Detector arrives, you two tell him, I had to go in. To keep Pops out of trouble!” he instructed them, then broke into a fast jog himself after the Racer family patriarch.

After Racer X left, Spritle looked at Sparky. “Well? I guess it's you, me, and 'Sleeping Ugly' here,” the little boy quipped.

Sparky made a wry face at him. “Very cute, Spritle. I just hope you don't expect ME, to kiss him awake,” the mechanic retorted with a tired grin.

Spritle giggled. “Who'd want to kiss a toad like  _ him _ , anyways?”

Then, just in time to stop Pops from charging into the Wiley house, three dark-colored sedans pulled up onto the estate grounds and parked. Inspector Detector and his men had finally arrived, armed with the search warrant that Racer X had requested earlier. “Racer X!” the detective called out, getting out of his car. He was accompanied by two uniformed officers. “Sorry, but you fellows lost us in your dust back there. Here's the warrant you wanted.” Detector handed an official-looking document to Racer X for inspection.

“Thanks, Inspector.” Racer X turned, and saw Pops still trying to slink away—again. “Pops, relax! The inspector's here. Will you please wait a moment!” he called out. “That way, we can all go in together!”

Finally, Pops gave in. He was still pretty mad but common sense finally prevailed—if he had gone in willy-nilly and tried to single-handedly free Speed, it could have been total disaster. A personal disaster for both the Racer family, and in a court of law; any confessions and/or evidence the police might get, could be construed in court as tainted evidence and grounds for a possible mistrial. “Oh, all right, I'll wait,” a red-faced Pops grumbled, leaning one hand on a nearby tree. “But hurry it up!”

Racer X nodded. “Good! Now that's been all settled...Oh, and Inspector? You might want to question this fellow.” He pointed to the still-dazed man in the red racing suit. “I recognize him, he's one of Jack Wiley's backup drivers. I've raced against him, many times before.”

Inspector Detector nodded. “Gladly!” He called to two of his men, who immediately put the dazed man under arrest. “All right, you. Start talking,” the inspector demanded, staring hard at the prisoner. “Where's Speed Racer?”

The man glared, defiant as ever. “Go in, and search for yourself!” he snapped. “I dunno anything about where they took the kid.”

That was enough for Pops. Gritting his teeth, his face turning an angry red, he rolled up a sleeve. Forget the jail cell; he was ready to deck this piece of trash and toss him in the nearest dumpster. “Yeah? You don't remember, eh?” the former pro wrestler exclaimed sarcastically. “Oh, you'll remember quick enough—once I introduce YOU, to MY fist!” He cocked his right arm back, intent on throwing a punch at the thug.

Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out and stopped him before he could even throw the punch. “Pops, settle down!” Racer X shouted, concern echoing in his voice. “This isn't a wrestling match. We're trying to find Speed, and we don't have a lot of time! So please, leave the questioning to the Inspector!”

A red-faced Pops huffed. “Well, I'm doing my part! I'm trying to get this goon to tell us where his buddies are hiding him,” he shot back. “ I'm just giving 'em a friendly little reminder, that's all.”

Uhhh...Pops? You call  _ that, _ a friendly little reminder...??? I'd hate to see, unfriendly!

Racer X turned to Inspector Detector. “Inspector, I think you'd better come in with us. We know how many are inside and that at least one of the guards is armed, but we don't know for sure about the others,” he said quietly. “We may need your men to cover us.”

The inspector agreed. “I'll have one of my men join us, then.”

Racer X nodded somberly. “Then let's get this done!”

Leaving Sparky behind to keep an eye on both the Mach Five and the Shooting Star (not to mention Spritle, who was watching the unfolding drama from the safety of his favorite spot—the trunk of the Mach 5) and to make contact with Trixie at the race course, Racer X, Pops, Inspector Detector and a few of his uniformed officers cautiously approached the front of the mansion. The inspector walked up to the front door, and knocked. “Police! Open up, we have a search warrant---!” 

They waited patiently for several long minutes for a reply. None came. Inspector Detector then decided they should enter the house , and carefully pushed open the door. “So this is what that scum Wiley's place looks like,” Pops sarcastically said, looking around the stately-looking home. “Well, I've seen automotive junkyards, that looked better than this.”

Racer X shook his head in warning. “Better keep your voice down, Pops. Wiley's muscle men are most likely still here.”

The police began searching every room of the mansion, with little success. As they came into the parlor, however, another one of Wiley's backup drivers was attempting to make a break—and he definitely had a guilty look on his face. “Hold it right there!” one of the officers barked, drawing his weapon.

The Alpha Team driver bolted. Pops Racer was even quicker, with all that adrenalin rushing through him. Seeing the fellow attempting to flee, he grabbed the panicky driver and held him high above his head—then body slammed the man hard, to the sofa that had just been recently vacated by the captive Speed. “Where's my son???” Pops bellowed, grabbing the quaking Alpha driver by the front of his racing jacket and pulling him close to his face. Right now, Pops had all the charm of a ferocious mother grizzly bear, defending her cubs.

OK. Maybe the charm of an angry mother grizzly, combined with the charisma of Hulk Hogan... Not the best description of Speed's dad, but a pretty accurate one anyways!

Pops shook the man hard. “Where is Speed??? Answer me!!! Or I'll throttle you so hard, your whole body'll be spinning. Not just your head!” he yelled. “And it's too bad your boss isn't here, I'd do the same thing to him, too!”

“Mr. Racer, please! Calm down! Or I may have to arrest you, too!” Inspector Detector worriedly exclaimed, stepping in before Pops did something he'd later regret. “You won't get any answers from the suspect, that way--!”

He stepped over to where two beefy officers had just handcuffed the prisoner. “All right. You can make things a lot easier for yourself, if you cooperate,” Inspector Detector said, gazing directly at the shaken soon-to-be ex-race car driver. “What did Wiley and his men do with young Speed?”

The ex-driver cringed. One thing was certain, he was terrified of Speed's father—well, especially when Pops was standing practically next to him, arms folded across his broad chest and glaring at him like he was still ready to beat the crap out of him. “I-I don't know!!” the fellow stammered, sweating considerably. “I think th-they...I think, they took the kid downstairs. Yeah, that's it, to the basement...B-but I'd be careful, goin' down there. There's plenty of old oil drums and gas cans...And Jock and Moody both have guns!”


	15. Fire Down Below!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's X/Rex to the rescue!

 

 

 ** Chapter 15.  _ Fire Down Below! _ **

 

Hearing that disturbing piece of news, Racer X immediately swung into action. He rushed towards the hallway, intent on finding the entrance to the basement. “Racer X!” Inspector Detector called out after him. “What are you doing??”

“Don't worry about me! Just clear everyone out of here!” X shouted back. “I'm going after Speed. But if my hunch about what's down there is right, there could be trouble! ” He found the door to the cellar, opened it, then dashed down the stairs into the shadows.

Down in the cellar, the commotion going on upstairs had the two bad guys worried. “Now I know where this kid gets his big mouth,” the third Alpha Team member, Jock, groaned. “Wonder if he fights as good as his old man?”

His partner winced. “Good thing the kid's all tied up—I really don't want to find that out.” Moody glanced over at a very drowsy Speed. Exhaustion was setting in on the helpless racer very quickly, and he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. “Yeahh. That's it, kid. Save us some grief, and go to sleep.”

Suddenly, the wooden stairs creaked. “Hey! Moody!” Jock whispered, nervously fingering his weapon. “ Someone's coming!”

The trenchcoat-clad thug immediately tightened his grip on his gun and looked nervously upwards. The stairs creaked yet again. “Jock? Go check it out. I'll stay here with the kid,” Moody said softly.

The red-suited driver nodded, and rose up. “Got it!” 

The place grew quiet then. Through half-slitted eyes Speed managed to look upwards at the stairs—and saw a familiar patch of white moving effortlessly down them. Almost instantly his heart nearly skipped a beat; he recognized the white racing uniform as that of the Masked Racer.  _ Racer X! He's here! He made it!  _ _ Thank God! I'm saved!!!  _ Speed closed his eyes all the way, an enormous sigh of relief escaping from behind the scarf tied over his mouth. 

He opened his eyes again, and looked over at his guard. Moody was sitting on one of the oil drums, gun drawn. He looked a little bored, Speed noticed. He was tempted then to take matters into his own hands, but he realized that perhaps it'd be better to wait and see what developed before trying to do something to help his own cause. It was just as well, because at that moment there was a loud  _ crash  _ followed by a soft  _ “Damn!”  _ Speed's masked elder brother had inadvertently kicked over a small can and sent it skittering across the cement floor.

Naturally, the suited driver proceeded with caution. Using the oil drums and such as cover, Jock maneuvered around, intent on forcing the intruder's hand. Meanwhile, Rex Racer did likewise; the entire scenario was reminiscent of a wrestling match, where the opponents first tried to feel the other out. “Who's there?” Jock called out, nervously clutching his gun. “Come on out and show yourself, whoever you are!”

A shadowy figure slinked by. Already on the antsy side, Jock began firing wildly at the moving shadow, hitting a good number of metal drums in the process. Oil spurted out every which way. The Masked Racer nimbly dodged everything thrown his way, whether literally jumping over metal containers or using them to ward off flying bullets. At one point, the barrage of bullets was so rapid, even Speed was forced to duck. A bullet screeched overhead, burying itself into the wall just above his head.  _ Yikes!!!! OK, that's...That's just a little too close for comfort!!!  _ he told himself, wide-eyed and taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.  _ This is definitely getting a little TOO dangerous! _

Then just as quickly as the barrage started, it ended. For some time it remained quiet, as Jock had met his match in Racer X, and the two were grappling among the spilled oil and falling obstacles for control of the thug's gun. Eventually X managed to knock the weapon out of the man's hand, sending it clattering across the floor. Then, Speed's older brother delivered a lightning-fast right cross to Jock's jaw, essentially dropping the man unconscious. The racer-turned-secret agent then carefully dragged Jock's limp form out a side door and away from the house, intent on handing him over to the police. If there was going to be fireworks...Racer X wanted no one to be caught in them.

Not even the bad guys.

The lengthy silence began to nag at Speed's guard. After about ten minutes of edgy waiting, the man in the trenchcoat couldn't wait any longer. Something was wrong, and he had to find out what that “something” was. “Jock?--Hey, Jock, what's going on?” Moody called out, very uneasy. “Where are you?”

He got up from the barrel he was sitting on and started out, gun in hand. As he ducked out from under the stairwell he had to pass by Speed, who was watching him like a hawk. Moody now had his back to him, and the captive teen quickly got an idea. Here was his opportunity to strike back---and let Racer X know where he was.

Grunting, painfully inching his way along the back wall, Speed managed to pull his body into position, closer to his intended target. He raised his legs and pulled back, almost like a snake coiling up to strike...

...Then unleashed his bound feet full length, at Moody's backside. A perfect hit---the heels of Speed's loafers scored a direct hit on the man's butt! “Owwwww!!!” the guard screamed, startled. “What the---!!??”

One problem, Speed. You forgot about the gun.

The force of the hit caused the man to squeeze the trigger, making the weapon discharge repeatedly into the air. The bullets sprayed in every direction. Unfortunately, some of them hit some nearby gasoline containers and the effect started a major chain reaction. Of course, it turned out that Moody was nothing but a big coward, and he broke for the nearest exit, intent on saving his own skin. “I'm outta here!”

_BOOM!!!!_ Explosions started to rip the basement apart, and flames began to spread rapidly. Speed watched, horrified, as the fire moved quickly from the rear of the cellar towards the stairs. Boy, did he ever miscalculate on that move!  _ Oh, crap! That definitely wasn't one of my better ideas,  _ he _ _ groaned inwardly.  _ Nice going, Professor Racer! You just earned your Ph.D in idiotcy!  _ Perspiration ran down both sides of his face. He startled to struggle frantically then, alarm filling his eyes. If only he could rid himself of that blasted gag---!

Frantic, he set to work to that end. Speed tried first the idea of rubbing his jaw to his shoulder in hopes of dislodging the scarf from his mouth that way. When that failed, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself—he needed to think clearly—then in desperation looked around him for anything that he could use to loosen his gag. The he spied a rusty nail protruding from one of the wooden steps, and Speed inwardly grinned, despite the gag.  _ OK, here's something. Maybe I can get this dumb gag off, with that nail! _

Grunting, painfully backing up and inching his trussed-up body as carefully as he could over to the protruding nail, Speed somehow managed once more to position himself so that he could attempt to hook his red scarf over the nail. He repeatedly talked to himself while doing so.  _ C'monnn, just a...Just a little bit more...!!!! ARAAAUUGGGHHH!!!! GOT IT!  _ Hooking the scarf onto the nail, he began to twist his head in both directions, until the cloth finally loosened and fell away. “Yaaaahhhhh!!!” Speed panted, gasping loudly. “Finally!!!”

He sucked in several huge lungfuls of air. Already, thick smoke and the acrid stench of burning fuel began to fill the cellar as several smaller fires converged into one larger blaze. With all the oil drums and gasoline containers stacked one atop another in rows 3 to 4 deep, the area could become a raging fireball in a matter of seconds. “Man, I gotta find a way outta here.--- _HELLLPPP!!!!”_ Speed yelled, despite the fact that he was pretty hoarse from the gag. His throat was parched, and quite sore. Perspiration dripped down both sides of his face down into his shirt collar, in tiny streams. _“SOMEBODY, HELP!!!!! I LIKE BARBEQUES, BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO BE INVITED TO ONE LIKE THIS!!”_

Uh...barbequed Speed Racer, anyone??? The only problem is, somebody used a little too much lighter fluid!

While Speed was desperately hoping for rescue, outside by the Mach 5 and the Shooting Star Sparky was on the CB to Trixie, updating her about the situation when the first explosions went off in the basement of the crooks' hideout .  **** _ **“Gotta go, Trix. Sounds like someone's set off** _ _ _ _ **some fireworks,”** _ _ _ he gasped, alarmed at what sounded like the rumble of thunder.

**“** _ **Sparky. Was that an explosion?”** _ _ _ Trixie demanded. She'd heard the rumbling as well, and didn't like the sound of it at all.

_ **“Not sure! But it sure sounds like something's going down.”** _

Suddenly, the estate grounds were rocked by one terrific fireball that went literally through the roof of the building. “Agggghhh!!!!!” Sparky yelled, his face blanching with shock.  _ **“** _ _ **Trixie? I definitely** _ _ _ _ **gotta go. This isn't good---the roof just blew off Wiley's mansion, and Speed's still** _ _ _ _ **inside with Racer X!!!”** _

He heard her scream.  _ **“No!!!! Not Speed---!!! This...This can't be happening. SPEEED!!!!”** _

Sparky and Trixie weren't the only ones to panic at the horrific sight. Spritle, who was still sitting comfortably in the trunk of his big brother's car, suddenly jumped in terror when he heard the blast. “Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!! POPS!!!!!!!” he screamed, when he saw the huge blaze of orange flame shoot straight up into the sky, taking the roof off with it. “There-there goes the h-house!!!” Shaking badly, the little boy began to cry and wail for what he thought was, his lost brother and new friend. “And both my brother and Racer X, they're trapped in there!!!”

Even Pops Racer and Inspector Detector stood by the Mach 5 in stunned horror, watching the flames shooting out of the damaged building. Pops somehow had managed to reach his youngest son, lifted him out of the Mach 5's trunk, and was now holding the crying youngster to him. It was as if, he'd lost another son. “Oh, Speed...,” he moaned, tears welling up in his eyes.

 

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Down in the basement, things were literally “heating up” for both Speed and Rex.

Speed's older brother could still hear him crying out for help, even as he himself continued to battle the intensifying flames in an effort to reach his captive younger brother. In the background more explosions were followed by the eruption of even larger fires. The fire line was closing in on a massive cluster of oil drums and gasoline cans, not too far from where Speed lay. “Speed!” Rex shouted, alarmed. “Where are you??”

“I'm here!! Under the stairs!!” Speed's face went completely white at this point. He started to cough—a sure sign, the fire was closing in on him. Smoke irritated his nose and throat, and his eyes stung badly. “You'd better hurry--!”

Racer X made his move. “Hold on, and just sit tight!”

Speed winced. “That's all I CAN do!” he yelled back. Another loud explosion. The flames rose higher and moved swiftly, from rear to front. The fast-moving flames made Speed very apprehensive. “It's getting closer!...Oh, man. I gotta get outta here real soon or else my goose'll REALLY be cooked! Racer X, you've got to hurry!” the helpless teenage racing star cried out, near a full panic. “I'm just a little too tied up to move right now---!!!”

The fire raged all around Speed. The intense heat made him perspire heavily, and he could feel it penetrating his skin. “Racer X! Please tell me, you're still in here---” he sobbed loudly.

“Speed! Don't worry, just keep talking!” the voice of Racer X sharply rang out through the thick smoke. “I'm homing in on your voice!”

“Is Spritle OK?”

“Yes, he's waiting outside, with your father and Sparky. He's the one who led us to you.”

 That calmed Speed down somewhat. He let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank goodness! I knew I could count on him!” He paused, then gasped, “So how much candy did the little candy fiend, extort out of Fixer?”

A distant chuckle. Then, “Three large bags' worth, actually...Just keep talking, Speed. I think I've got a fix on your position.” Racer X blindly pushed on through the heavy smoke, determined to reach his captive brother's side.

“I'm trying to talk! But all this smoke is getting thicker, and I can barely see!” Speed coughed.

“Stay low to the ground! There's more oxygen down there!”

Speed tried to obey, but found it difficult going. He struggled to drop his body to the ground. “I-I'm trying! But it's not comfortable, I'm all tied up and it hurts to move!--Where are you??” Panic once again crept into Speed's voice. Over the roar and crackling of the encroaching flames, he tried to pick up his rescuer's trail. He was breathing heavily and squirming restlessly, and on several occasions his body was racked with coughing. “Racer X!!” Speed cried out moments later.

Thankfully, Racer X was close by. He now could see Speed from his position just several feet away from the stairs. “Hold on, I've got you in my sights. Yes—I see the staircase now.”

Another violent fit of coughing, and the next thing Speed knew Racer X was kneeling beside him, cradling him in his arms. “It's all right, Speed. I'm right here,” X whispered, comforting a badly-shaken Speed. “Just take it easy, I'll get you out.”

An exhausted but grateful Speed looked up at him. “Oh, thank goodness! Boy, am I ever glad to see you.---OWWW!!!” He winced, trying to shift his position. “Man, they sure tied these things tight---!”

“Well, we don't have time to untie you right now. This place is going to blow at any moment. We've got to get you to safety,” X replied. He gently scooped Speed up, and carried him away from his nightmarish prison. “Just keep your head turned inwards, towards my body. That' ll help keep you from inhaling too much of the smoke .”

Speed went into another coughing fit. “Hurry...Felt a little dizzy just now...”

Rex Racer glanced sympathetically at his suffering little brother. There was no time---he had to get Speed out that cellar door, and fast.  _ We're halfway across the room, hemmed in by fire and exploding oil drums and whatnot. But it's our only chance!  _ Clutching Speed tightly in his arms, the tall, muscular masked figure ran into the heavy smoke cloud, through the burning oil, determined to make it to the exit that led to fresh air---and a waiting reunion with Speed's father and brother Spritle. 

Finally, Rex spotted the exit. Seeing the closed door as the last obstacle in the way of getting Speed to safety, the masked driver savagely kicked at it, causing the door to fly outward and nearly off its hinges. Then with sheets of flame and billowing smoke behind them, Racer X dashed out into the fresh air, carrying his helpless brother to safety.

At this point, the cool, clean air began to revive Speed. His eyes weakly flickered open, and he coughed violently. There he discovered his rather awkward position: his face was pressed up against Racer X's chest, practically in his armpit! “Racer X? Have you ever considered, switching your brand of deodorant?” the teenaged driver weakly deadpanned, having gotten a whiff of his elder brother's underarm. “No offense, but...Your pits stink!” Speed made a weak face in an effort to back up his statement.

Racer X laughed, relieved. “And this is the thanks I get, for rescuing you?” he shot back, smiling. “Well, at least that's a sign, you'll be all right.”

A tired, aching Speed looked up at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, your sense of humor's come back. Full force.”

Speed let out a weak chuckle. “I guess it has.---But seriously, you need to make a pit stop for deodorant re-application.” He paused, and attempted to shift his body. “Although I'd feel a lot better, once these ropes come off. They're chafing me something awful.” He groaned painfully. “I think I've got rope burn.”

His brother understood. “Right. ”

Racer X carried his brother to a grassy spot under a huge oak tree quite a distance away from the burning building, and gently laid him on the ground. More explosions were going off. Soon the entire mansion was up in flames. “Wow!” Speed gulped, as more of the upper floors collapsed, “that could've been the end of us!”

He looked anxiously to the man kneeling beside him. X had pulled out a pocket knife from inside his racing suit, and was about to start cutting the ropes binding Speed. “Racer X, you saved my life---again,” Speed began softly, his eyes moist and full of gratitude. He was still quite shaken by his ordeal. “I don't know how I can ever repay you, after this. I'm sorry I put everybody through so much---you, Mom, Pops, and especially little Spritle. I didn't mean for any of this to happen--”

Racer X smiled, and shook his head. “No, Speed, I know you didn't. No one asks to be kidnapped. Sometimes it just happens,” he answered quietly. “But I hope, you learned a very valuable lesson from your experience.”

Speed grimaced weakly. “I sure did. I'll never,  _ ever _ try your mask on, again! Now—can you  _ please  _ get these ropes off of me??” he begged.

Again, the quiet chuckle. Racer X flicked open his pocket knife. “And that reminds me. You owe me a new mask,” he joked, playfully brandishing the weapon at Speed.

Speed sighed heavily. “Yeah. That's if Pops doesn't dock my allowance first,” he murmured, a little dejected.

X shook his head. “I was just joking, Speed. Don't worry about it. Now, hold still. I don't want to cut you.”

Speed sat quietly while his elder brother expertly slashed through the ropes binding his wrists. The blade was sharp, and X made quick work of the ropes. The ropes soon parted, freeing the young racer's hands. “Ahhh!” Speed breathed, relieved to have use of his hands again. He began to gingerly massage his chafed, aching wrists, even as X cut his ankles loose. “That's much better. Thanks, Racer X.”

He waited several minutes for circulation to return to his extremities, then attempted to get to his feet. Speed quickly found out the hard way, however, about the effects of prolonged restraint: he had been tied up for so long, his arms and legs were completely numb. He nearly lost his balance, and clutched at Racer X for support. “Whoaa!!---Whoaaa!!! OK, bad idea!” Speed groaned.

“Take it easy, Speed. Here, let's get you walking around some.” Racer X put a supportive arm around the boy's waist, and encouraged him to walk. “And then—we'd better go find your father before he really believes the worst!”

Speed just nodded. “Right. I wouldn't want Pops thinking, he needs to plan for a funeral!”

The Wiley home was fully engulfed in flames and thick smoke by the time Speed and the Masked Racer emerged from the other side of the compound. At least two fire companies had been called in, to help battle the raging inferno. Speed was walking more normally now, but he was so worn out from his ordeal that he still had to rely on his older companion for physical support, and he was leaning heavily on Racer X when they started out to rejoin Pops, Spritle and Sparky. But as the brothers approached the wooded area where the Mach 5 and the Shooting Star were hidden, they were presented with a very disturbing sight: a distraught Pops Racer sat in the Mach 5, his face buried in his hands and sobbing, shaking his head in shock and disbelief. Spritle clung to his father's leg, crying inconsolably while Inspector Detector tried to console the two.  _ “...There's nothing more that can be done. I'm sorry, Mr. Racer. It'll take a miracle to get Speed and Racer X out of that place now,”  _ Speed and Rex heard the detective say sorrowfully.

Then they heard Spritle wailing uncontrollably.  _ “They lied!! They lied!! They promised they wouldn't hurt Speed, and now he's—he's g-gone! I want my brother baaaack...!!!!!”  _ Spritle bawled, the tears flowing down his chubby little face.

Even Sparky was too stunned to comprehend what appeared to be, his friend's final moments. “ _ Speed...I'm gonna miss ya, pal.” _

From his vantage point in the woods, Speed watched and listened to the heartbreaking scene in horrified fascination.  _ I know it was an accident...but when you mix guns and racing fuel, something like this was bound to happen. Now my dad and little brother—even my best friend!--think, I'm gone. Dead! Wow, I hate to think how Mom and Trixie'll react, if this gets back to them! _

Suddenly, his thoughts changed to Jack Wiley and his men. Speed gritted his teeth and began to repeatedly clench then unclench his fists in pent-up anger.  _ Unggghhhh...!!! Jack Wiley, you just wait. You're gonna pay for all the hell you've just put me and my family through! _

He glanced over at Racer X. “Racer X? I think it's time to put an end to our early demise,” he whispered, and the Masked Racer nodded his agreement.

Sirens blared, as more rescue vehicles arrived on the scene. Still, there was no comforting Pops Racer over the apparent loss of his middle son. Pale and grief-stricken, he began to silently berate himself.  _ If only, I hadn't forced Rex to leave us! If only I'd handled things differently with him...If only, I'd treated Speed differently!  _ “First, I lost Rex when he and I had that terrible argument so many years ago, over his wanting to turn pro. Now a rival team's kidnapped and murdered my second son!---Damn that Wiley, how am I supposed to tell my wife about Speed????” Pops screamed, sobbing loudly. Out of sheer frustration and grief he slammed a fist on the Mach 5's dashboard, unaware of the two shadowy figures slinking through the brush behind him.

Breathing heavily, the distraught father saw that Spritle had cried himself to sleep—at Pops' feet. Pops wiped back a tear rolling down his cheek, then tendely lifted the sleeping child into his lap and hugged him. Then gazing out at the still-burning mansion he murmured, “Speed...I can't believe, I've lost another son...”

Suddenly, someone coughed behind him. Then, a familiar boyish voice filled his ears.  _ “Tell Mom what, about me?? What are you talking about, Pops? You haven't lost anybody yet---and I'm certainly no ghost!” _

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speed is reunited with his dad and little brother--yet insists on running the Trans-Country race. Big mistake, or not??

 

 

 ** Chapter 16.  _ Reunion _ **

 

 

For a brief moment, Pops Racer thought someone was playing a cruel joke on him. “Who are you?? Why are you doing this??” the big man cried, agony and grief written all over his face. “My son Speed died in that fire--”

At that, Speed Racer realized the joke was up. He had intended to stretch the prank out a little further, but seeing his father's distraught reaction quickly wiped any semblance of a quirky smirk off his face. He couldn't let his father go on thinking he'd been killed. Holding on to Racer X for support, he unsteadily stepped out from the shadows, a weak grin on his face. Speed looked like he'd been through a wringer washer—his hair was slick and matted with sweat and grime, his face was very pale, and his clothes smudged with oil and soot. His trademark red neckerchief was also missing----a victim of the inferno, most likely. In fact, both he and Racer X looked more like they'd been wrestling in motor oil, rather than having just survived a horrendous fire. “Aw, relax, Pops, I didn't die. It's really me,” Speed said quietly, stepping around the Mach 5 so that his father could get a good look at him. “Believe me, I really would've been a goner if Racer X hadn't pulled me out in the nick of time.”

The sight of his grinning, very disheveled middle son shocked Pops back into the here and now. “Speed!!!!” he gasped, overjoyed. “Speed, you're---you're all right!!!” He broke into a relieved laugh. “Why you little rascal, don't ever scare your mother and me like that again!--Now, get over here, and give your Pops a hug.”

He made a move to get up from the car, to hug his exhausted son. In doing so, howerver, he nearly dropped Spritle, who woke up with a loud yell. “Hey!!! Pops, I was sleeping! Whose big mouth woke me u...” Spritle looked up. His mouth comically dropped when he saw his brother Speed standing next to the Mach 5, being supported by an equally oil-slicked Racer X. “”SPEEEEEED!!!!!!!” the little boy squealed in absolute delight. “Racer X!!!!” He ran over to Speed, and before the older boy could say anything he tackled him about the knees and held on for dear life. “Speed!!! You're ok! You got out! You both got out safe!!!”

Spritle's enthusiasm was such that he literally bowled his brother over, flat on his back. “H-hey!!! Spritle!!!” a startled Speed laughed. “I'm glad to see you too, kiddo. But didya have to tackle me like that?? Now, let me up!”

Pops feigned a stern look at his youngest son. Deep down, however, no words could describe the man's relief and joy at seeing Speed horsing around with Spritle, although Pops was concerned about his older son's condition. Speed definitely looked a little worse for wear, in his opinion. “Spritle? You let Speed up, right this instant!” he thundered. “He's obviously had a rough go of things and he needs to rest!”

Spritle looked up. He was one happy little boy again, wrestling with his big brother “OK, Pops! But I'm just so happy, he's ok,” the youngster replied, hugging a wincing Speed tightly. “I was real scared, when all those explosions and then that humongous fireball took the roof off the house---”

Speed smiled weakly. “I just bet you were! And you wanna know something, Spritle?”  


“What's that, Speed?”

 "I was scared, too. Especially when the fire started.”

Spritle looked at him incredulously. “No!! You, Speed? Scared??? No way!!!”

“Yes, way. Just ask Racer X how I was, when he found me.”

Suddenly, Spritle let go of his big brother. He noticed that Speed's clothes reeked of smoke, and his white pants were no longer white in places—they were smudged with oil. Lots of oil. “Speed, you're covered with oil...,” Spritle began uneasily, then happened to get a look at himself---some of that oil and soot had transferred from Speed's clothing, over to him! “...I'M covered in oil! Mom's gonna kill us for this!” he cried out, slightly panicky. “What if she can't wash this stuff out??”

Speed made a face. “Ummm...Blame our kidnappers,” he weakly jested.

A mischievous gleam filled Spritle's eyes. “Should we send 'em the dry cleaning bill?” he asked, relishing the thought.

Speed smiled, and playfully rubbed his little brother's beanie cap. “Whatever you want, Spritle. I'm sure Mom'll love that idea,” he replied, and both boys had a good laugh about it.

Just then, a very relieved Inspector Detector and an equally--delighted Sparky rushed over to the little group. Word of Speed and Racer X's amazing escape had soon gotten out, and rather quickly at that. “Speed!” the detective excitedly called out, relieved to see the young man in more or less one piece. He reached out, and shook Speed's hand warmly. “Thank goodness, you and Racer X made it out all right. We really thought, we lost you. How'd you boys manage to make it out of there, in the first place?”

Speed chuckled lightly. “Oh, through the cellar door. The same way, that Moody fellow ran through when things started to uhh...” He made a strange face. “...'Heat up'?”

“The cellar door led to the other side of the mansion, out by the gardens,” Racer X explained. “From your angle, you couldn't see what was happening over there, so when the explosions started naturally you all thought the worst.”

“Once we got out and Racer X untied me, it was a matter of me getting my bearings—and, to my feet without falling over!---then finding Pops, Spritle and Sparky,” Speed added. He looked around, and saw two of his former tormentors being placed into a waiting police vehicle—a couple of squad cars had long since joined the fun. “By the way, Inspector. What happened to Jock and Moody—the guys who were with me in the cellar, guarding me? Just curious,” Speed casually asked, despite feeling totally exhausted and ill.

The detective smiled. “We got 'em all, Speed. All four of them are on their way to jail,” Detector replied. “Although we still have yet to arrest the mastermind behind your kidnapping—Jack Wiley.” The inspector noticed that Speed was yawning, and he lay a hand on the teen's shoulder. “Listen, Speed. I'll be by the house to question you a little later, once you've had a chance to rest some. You look like you could use some sleep.” He patted Speed's shoulder, then with a smile walked away.

At that point, a breathless Sparky ran over and gave Speed the biggest bear hug, he could muster up. “Speed! You sly weasel, you scared the wits outta all of us!” the lanky mechanic exclaimed happily. “For a moment, we all thought you'd gone to that Great Racetrack in the Sky! Good thing Trixie doesn't know about the Houdini act, you and Racer X just pulled---”

Speed made a face. “And I'd rather she not know, either,” he replied.

His pal eyed him wryly. “Gee, what'd they do to ya, Speed? You look terrible,” Sparky commented lightly.

Speed grinned wanly. Sparky was right—he not only looked terrible, he felt terrible. Of course, he wasn't about to let his pal know  _ that _ . Certainly not when Pops was standing five or six feet away, talking animately with Racer X! “Well, I feel pretty good, considering what I've just been through,” he answered, a bit nonchalant. “I'll feel a lot better, though, when Wiley and the rest of his crooks are behind bars!”

Sparky grinned. “You and how many others out there? Right now, I'll bet Pops is at the top of that list!”

Suddenly, he turned his head, and frowned. Pops was heading Speed's way, and he wasn't very happy about something. “Uh-oh! Speaking of Pops...Speed, you'd better take cover. Hurricane Pops is headed your way!” he whispered hoarsely to his friend. “Looks like he's been talking to Racer X---”

Then, “Speed? I want to talk to you, son.---Now!” The look on Pops Racer's face told the story. He was more than just a little upset with Speed----Speed was certain, it had to do with him sneaking the Mach 5 out into that rainstorm the other night.

He motioned for Speed to come with him, away from the cars. “Speed, we need to talk,” Pops began, trying to stay calm . His body language, however, was betraying him; in another minute or so the head of Racer Motors would “blow a gasket.”

Speed swallowed hard. Oh, boy. When Pops started out so formal and quiet... _ Uh-oh. Here it comes,  _ he thought worriedly to himself. _ I'm really gonna get it now!  _ “About what, Pops?” he asked innocently.

Pops glared at him “What were you thinking, when you took the Mach 5 out in that storm last night??” he snapped, his face turning a nice shade of red. “I thought you knew better than that, driving at high speeds on slick roads. And at two in the morning--!!!-”

Poor Speed blinked, shocked at his dad's unexpected outburst. “Wa—I was just thinking over what you said!” he shot back, a little on the defensive side. “About me, needing more experience? So I decided to go get some!”

“But in a thunderstorm?? Are you out of your mind??” Pops was furious. “And what's this I hear, about you trying on Racer X's mask? Explain that to me!!”

Speed cringed. He looked down at the ground, knowing full well he was about to be lectured, but good. He clearly wasn't feeling well, and his dad's yelling wasn't helping him any.

Fortunately, he had an ally. Racer X saw what was happening, and stepped in. “Pops, I think you should ease up on Speed. He's been through enough,” the Masked Racer said, putting a comforting arm around the shaking teen's shoulders. “It wasn't his fault, he ended up at my place. The logs he crashed into last night, were meant for me. Somebody—and we now know who—wants me out of the Trans-Country Race. ”

That really set Pops off. This was the first, he'd heard of Speed crashing into any obstacles. “What crash?? What logs??! Tell me!” the burly car designer demanded, loud enough that his voice sent little Spritle skedaddling in terror behind a baffled Sparky.

For several long, tense moments he stared crossly at his unhappy son. Pops quickly realized his error, however, and suddenly regretted chewing his frazzled son out like that. Although he was upset with Speed for contributing to what happened, he soon saw Racer X's point. What Speed really needed now was his support, not criticism. Sighing, the Racer family patriarch reached out to hug his distraught son. “Oh, Speed, come here. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be yelling at you,” Pops said, softening his tone of voice. “It's been hell, for all of us. I'm just glad you're all right, son. I was really worried about you.” He became all choked up with emotion, and hugged Speed warmly . “Especially when I saw you lying on that sofa all tied up, and I--well, I felt so helpless, not being able to help you then!”

A shaky, exhausted Speed rested his head against his father's chest, and closed his eyes. It felt good to be back with his family again. ”I know, Pops. I heard you yelling,” he murmured. “I was worried about me, too. I didn't know how much more of that restraint, I could stand!”

“But we're still gonna discuss this when you get home!”

Poor Speed looked like he'd rather stay a captive, than face his father's wrath! His eyes went wide, and he tried to protest. A rather weak one, at that. “B-but, Pops!!! C'mon, haven't I taken enough punishment today already?” he cried. His father chuckled, and once more hugged him tightly.

Elder brother Rex, meanwhile, looked on the festivities with a satisfied expression. He was secretly proud of both his younger brothers: Speed for his courage and cleverness; and Spritle, with his penchant for making the bad guys look even sillier than they were. Still, the older man realized, this incident was far from over. As long as Wiley and his other henchmen were still on the loose, no one in this family would be safe...

_ ...And neither would Racer X. _

Pops was already at his overprotective best now, forcing a still-very unsteady Speed to sit in the passenger side of the Mach 5 and rest. “...Now, you just sit and relax, son. When we get home you're going straight to bed. Mom'll fix you some lunch, and we're gonna call Dr. Wilson to come have a look at you...”

Speed made a pained face. He loved Pops dearly, but sometimes the man could smother the dickens out of a guy! “Awwww!!! Pops...!!!!”

But there was something else on his mind right now, that was more important than his physical health.  _ The Trans-Country Race, and what Wiley had planned for Racer X... _

He glanced over at Sparky. “Hey, Sparky. What time is it?” Speed quietly asked.

Sparky checked his watch. “It's uhh...It's a quarter to one, Speed. The race starts in fifteen minutes,” he replied.

Speed's mouth dropped wide in shock. “The race! I nearly forgot about the race!” He smacked himself on the forehead, then hastily scrambled behind the wheel of the Mach 5—much to Pops' dismay and Racer X's consternation. This was actually the jump start, the teenager needed to snap him out of his daze. “Sparky? Climb in, I'm dropping you and Spritle off in the pits. Spritle?” Speed playfully pointed to the trunk. “Get in the trunk!”

Spritle giggled. He was only too happy, to take his customary place in the rear of the Mach 5. “Gladly! Don't worry, Speed, me and Chim Chim'll keep an eye on that Mr. Wiley guy for you and Racer X!”

Naturally, Pops blew up. “Now wait a darn minute, Speed! I never said, you could enter that race!” he shouted, furious. “I forbid it! We're talking 300 miles, and just look at you—you're a wreck! And—and what about your reflexes? You're gonna need them, and if they're not sharp you'll have all sort of trouble on that track--“

Speed was adamant. His eyes flashed with that determined stubborness that was so much the Racer family trademark. “Sorry, Pops. I'm already entered, and I'm going to race!” he shot back, a little defiant. “Now, where's my helmet??”

“SPEEEED!!!!!” his father bellowed.

“No time to waste, Pops! Wiley and the rest of his gang are already at the track. They're just lying in wait for Racer X---I heard Wiley order his thugs as he left the house, to take Racer X out any way they could!” Speed put on his racing helmet and driving gloves. “Alpha Team means to destroy Racer X, and win the race at the same time. They've got to be stopped---and I plan to be the one who stops 'em!”

Pops's face turned almost as red as the interior of the Mach 5's cockpit. “Speed, you're---you're impossible!!” Scowling, he leaned on the driver's door and literally thrust his face close to Speed's. He angrily wagged a finger at him. “Now listen here, young man. I'm your father, and I'll have the final say on when you can race! I won't let you risk yourself and others out on that track today, and that's final!”

“But, Pops---!!!”

“Speed, listen to your father! He's right---you're in no condition to be driving at all, let alone racing! Take my advice, and stay out of this race----it's much too dangerous, to be taken lightly,” Racer X gently cut in. He too was worried, that Speed was trying to do too much too soon. He'd seen this battle too many times before, in his past life as Rex Racer: Pops had argued with Rex over the very same idea of turning pro when Rex had been about Speed's age, and now it seemed that Speed was following in his brother's footsteps. Although, Rex mused, Pops did have a very good reason to be concerned about Speed right now----given the stress that Speed had been subjected to that morning, how would his already-weakened body react to the high speeds generated during the course of a very challenging race? ”I agree with Pops, you should just go home and rest. Leave the Alpha Team to me.”

As usual, Speed wouldn't take “no” for an answer. Displaying that infamous Racer stubborness and feistiness yet again, the young man gritted his teeth. He was determined to make it to the starting line, and nobody was going to stop him. “Uh-uh! No way!” Speed replied, his eyes narrowing. “Look, Racer X. I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me like you did today. I owe you my life, I mean that. But you can't stop me from racing, and neither can Pops. A race is a race, and I'm gonna win!”

His flabbergasted father couldn't believe what he was hearing. Speed had just survived a kidnapping and a fire, and yet he still insisted on racing today?? Surely if Pops Racer had his way, that boy would be grounded for a ver-ry long time and his driving privileges suspended! (Not that he'd really do that to Speed right now, not after what the teen had just been through; Pops really didn't have the heart to punish him. He just wanted Speed to think things out better!) “Speed, I'm warning you. Don't do this---!”

Speed merely smiled, and turned the key in the ignition. He revved up the Mach 5's engine for several minutes, then breezily waved to both his father and Racer X. “'Bye, Pops! See you at the finish line!” He floored the accelerator, then the sleek race car was soon nothing but a white blur as it roared forward.

“SPEEEED!!!!” Poor Pops stood there, a flustered expression on his face as he watched the Mach 5 disappear from sight. In one sense, part of the senior Racer was relieved in that Speed appeared to have bounced back nicely from his kidnap ordeal and was back to his normal, active self. Yet...For all the pride he had in his son's ability to weather everything the kidnappers had thrown at him, Pops still found himself worrying: Speed was heading for a dangerous fall if he thought for even a second, he could single-handedly stop someone like Jack Wiley and his thugs from causing mayhem on the track.

Which was why, he tended to be overprotective of his boys. “SPEED RACER, YOU GET BACK HERE!!!” Pops yelled, exasperated. He shook his fist in the air. “JUST YOU WAIT 'TIL YOU GET HOME, I'M GONNA....YOU'RE GROUNDED!!!! AND NO CAR FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!!!!”

Suddenly, the fuming, red-faced car designer felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Racer X, with that odd half-smile that kept driving Pops crazy. “Speed won't listen to you now, Pops. He's long gone,” X said softly, gazing out into the distance.

Pops looked at him, and snorted. “Yeah? Now see here, X, I'll not have you telling my son, what to do. Who do you think you are, anyways? You're not his father. You're not even related!”

“No, I can't do that, sir. Because  _ you're  _ his father. I'm only an old race hand, looking out for the rookie.” X paused, then chuckled slightly. If Pops only knew who he was really talking to...! “You know, Pops. You remind me of my own father. As a matter of fact, he's a lot like you...”

“You're not helping much,” Pops muttered comically.

“Oh? I think I did quite a bit.” Racer X started over to the Shooting Star. “Now, if you'll excuse me. I've a race to run, and a certain teenager I need to keep my eye on.” He turned, and once more gave a perturbed Pops that small, tight half-smile. “Don't worry, Pops. I'll make sure, Speed stays safe.”

Before a rattled Pops could respond, the Masked Racer jumped into his car, started the engine, then drove off, leaving Speed's dad in a cloud of dust. Pops evenutally found his voice. “You had better keep an eye on Speed!” he shouted, to no one in particular. “Or it'll be your hide, too!”

Poor Pops! He can't win for losing with his family. Can he??

 

5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 

 

 Meanwhile, a determined Speed Racer was willing every last ounce of his strength, to get the Mach 5 to the starting line in time before the flag dropped.

En route to the track, a very worried Sparky observed his friend closely. Although Speed seemed to be handling the car well, every so often his reflexes would slip and he'd have to overcorrect on the steering. Or he'd ride the brake a little too hard, causing a jolting “stop 'n go” effect. And despite repeated assurances from Speed that he was fine, the lanky mechanic still had his doubts about his pal's physical fitness to race; Speed was breathing hard, his face ash-white, and sweat was just streaming down his face from both sides of his helmet.  _ Man, Speed must be living on sheer adrenaline right now!  _ Sparky thought, marveling at his friend's ability to concentrate on the road.  _ I'll bet he's more wiped out, than he's willing to let on. But he's still going! _

He glanced over at Speed again. “Speed. Are you really sure, you're ok?” Sparky asked, for the umpteenth time it seemed. “Are you sure, you're up for this race?”

Speed sighed heavily. He knew he felt like crap—but there was no turning back now.”Sparky, I told you. I'm sure,” he responded quietly. “I've got to do this. I've got to prove to Pops and Racer X, I'm perfectly capable of becoming a really good driver. I also have to take Wiley and his pals down, for what they put my family through.”

Sparky shrugged carelessly. “OK. Whatever you say, Speed. You know I'm with you, all the way.”

A weary Speed smiled at him. “Thanks, Sparky. You're the best.”

 

 

 

 

 


	17. No Turning Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speed arrives in time for the big race...

 

 

 ** Chapter 17.  _ No Turning Back  _ **

 

 

_ **“Mach 5 to Trixie, this is Speed. Are you there, Trixie? Come in, please.”** _

 TheCB radio in the small lounge where Trixie and Mrs. Racer nervously awaited further word on the rescue effort suddenly crackled to life, startling the occupants of that tiny room. What was even more startling, was the voice coming in loud and clear over the radio. _**“**_ _ **Re**_ _ **peat, this is**_ _ **Speed Racer calling Trixie. Come i**_ _ **n, Trixie!”**_

 __Trixie looked up. She had been helping Mrs. Racer keep her word to Spritle—by keeping Chim Chim out of Spritle's candy. Now, having heard her boyfriend's voice over the radio, Trixie's eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe it---Speed had actually survived those explosions! “Speed!!!” she screamed happily. “Oh, I can't believe it. Speed's ok! He made it out!!”

Speed's mom, who was standing next to Trixie, closed her eyes and breathed an enormous sigh of relief upon hearing her son's voice. “Oh, thank heavens!” she murmured, her eyes misting slightly. “Thank heavens, those horrible people didn't harm him---!”

Even Chim Chim became excited at the prospect of Speed's return. First the little chimpanzee did a few somersaults on the floor. Those were followed by a few backflips. Unfortunately for Chim Chim, one of thos backflips...Well,  _ mis-flipped.  _ Hooting wildly, Chim Chim fell backwards, taking out one of Spritle's precious bags of candy in the process!

_ Eek!!! Eek!!!  _ cried Chim Chim, lying sprawled out among the scattered candy.

An ecstatic Trixie grabbed the CB mike.  __ _ **“Speed!!! Thank goodness, you're all right! Your mom** _ _ _ _ **and I were worried about you!”** _ she cried, her eyes sparkling with relief.  __ _ **“But...how did you manage to, um...You know. Escape??”** _

A tired chuckle greeted her ears.  __ _ **“Doesn't matter how I got out, Trix. I just did,”** _ Speed  **replied.** __ _ **“Thanks to Spritle, Pops and Racer X, that is.---I'll tell you more about it, later.”** _ __ As he guided the Mach 5 down the main drag towards the outskirts of town heading directly for the stadium, Speed made the occasional check of his dashboard instrument panel. He looked and sounded fatigued.  _ **“By the way, Trixie. Is my mom there?”** _

_ **“Yes, she is. I'll put her on.”** _ Trixie handed the mike over to his mother. “Speed wants to talk to you,” she whispered, and a tearful Mrs. Racer nodded.

Trembling just a little, Speed's mother spoke to her son. _ **“Speed, sweetie. It's so good to hear your voice. Your father and I were so worried about you when Spritle told us what happened, and** _ _ _ _ **even moreso when we got that dreadful note,”** _ __ she said, daubing at her moist eyes with a handkerchief that Trixie had given her.  _ **“Are you all right, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”** _

Speed let out a heavy sigh. His physical condition seemed to be worsening---now he found he was dealing with a nasty case of nausea on top of everything else that bothered him, possibly due to his not eating since dinner the night before. Still, he tried to be brave about how he really felt.  _ **“Aw, Mom. I'm ok, really. Other than being tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey and nearly getting myself** _ _ _ _ **barbecued, I'm fine,”** _ was the young racer's reply to his mom's concerned query. Speed hated to lie, especially to his parents; but this Trans-Country Race was too important to him on so many levels, and he meant to race.  _ **“Don't worry, I've got Sparky and Spritle with me.”** _

_ **“Well, thank goodness, for that! But, Speed---”** _ Speed could detect the worry in his mother's voice,  _ **“ ---Please tell me, you're not running that race today. You know how your father feels about you racing before you're ready to. And after all you've been through---what if those awful men try something on you, during the race?”** _

_ **“Sorry, Mom, but I have to do this. Wiley and his goon squad are already out at the track. They think I'm out of the way---it's Racer X, they're really after. How they're gonna do it, I haven't** _ _ _ _ **figured that out yet.”** _ __ Speed paused, coughed, then impatiently cleared his throat---a sobering reminder of the fire that he and Racer X had just narrowly escaped from.  _ **“The important thing is, they're not expecting me to show up at the starting line.”** _

Mrs. Racer felt very apprehensive about her son's eagerness to compete. _ _ _ **“I don't know, Speed. I really think you should be home now, resting...”** _

Speed groaned. He felt himself getting desperate. What was it going to take for him to convince his mother, he was all right to race??  __ _ **“Aw, Mom, c'mon! I know I should, but...Look, I promise I won't make any fuss when I'm done. After the race I promise I''ll go right home, take a good hot shower (boy, do I need one!), get something to eat, then go straight to bed. So will you please relax??”** _

Finally, Mrs. Racer relented.  _ “ _ _ **All right, Speed. I trust you know what you're doing. Good luck, sweetie,”** _ she said softly, with a small smile. Then she added teasingly,  _ “ _ _ **And by the way, where IS your father?”** _

At that, Speed and Sparky exchanged mortified glances. Oops---they'd forgotten that Speed had left a fuming Pops behind at the Wiley estate! Hopefully, Pops had hitched a ride with Inspector Detector or Racer X.  “ _ **Whoops! Ahh...I ahh, I sorta left him umm...Eating my dust back at the kidnappers' hideout?”** _ a sheepish-looking Speed admitted, blushing ever so slightly.

His mother made a wry face.  _ **“Speed! How could you do such a thing? Your own father---”** _

Just then, Sparky intervened. He tapped lightly at Speed's shoulder, and showed him his watch. The time was now 12:53 pm. “Seven minutes 'til the yellow flag drops, Speed,” the mechanic gently reminded his pal. “You'd better floor this thing!”

Speed breathed a huge sigh of relief. Talk about being bailed out of an embarrassing situation! The expression, 'saved by the bell' didn't apply this time—in the young racer's mind it was more like, 'saved by his mechanic!' “Right! Nice timing, Sparky. That couldn't have come at a better moment,” Speed declared, exhaling deeply. “Let's go!” He signed off the CB, downshifted, then stepped on the gas. The Mach 5 responded with a burst of speed, and soon Speed and Sparky (with Spritle in the trunk, as usual) were at the race track---with only minutes to spare.

An air of electrified excitement hung over the race course that afternoon. Thousands of racing fans---young and old---jammed into the grandstands, eagerly awaiting the start of one of the racing world's biggest events, the Trans-Country Race. The enticing aroma of peanuts, popcorn, and other food wafted throughout the area, as vendors did a brisk business with hungry patrons. It was a gorgeous day for racing---blue skies, with not even a single cloud in sight.

Down trackside, Trixie waited impatiently along with Mrs. Racer and Chim Chim, for Speed's arrival in the pit area. Most of the other cars had already left their respective areas and were about to take their starting positions. Only the Mach 5 and the Shooting Star were missing, and unless both Speed and Racer X showed up in the next sixty to ninety seconds it was unlikely that either one would be able to participate in the race.

Naturally, Speed's mom was adamant about about joining Trixie trackside. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Racer wasn't afraid to let her second-eldest son live his dream; and if Speed was determined to run this course today then she wanted to share in his efforts, whether he won or lost. She'd deal with Pops and his bruised ego, later. “Any sign of Speed yet?” she asked anxiously.

Trixie scanned the distant horizon with a pair of binoculars. “Nothing yet,” she reported uneasily.

Mrs. Racer wrung her hands, worried. “Oh, where is he? He's going to be late for the start---”

She and Trixie weren't the only familiar faces in the crowd. Mr. Wiley and his puppet, Mr. Fixer, were among the fans seated high up in the stands overlooking the area which was known in racing circles as, Pit Row. Two of Wiley's men, wearing suits and sunglasses, sat in strategic positions along the length of the course, deliberately spread out so no one would suspect that they were working together. There were still two other members of Wiley's crew, also somewhere in the stands.

Suddenly, the squeal of tires and the roar of a powerful engine caught the women's attention. Moments later the Mach 5 screeched to a fast stop in front of Mrs. Racer and Trixie, and out jumped a very weary Speed. His face was pale, and drenched in sweat. He didn't look good, at all...Behind him the trunk of the Mach 5 opened, revealing Speed's little brother Spritle. He was soon reunited with his beloved Chim Chim. “Why, there's Speed now!” Trixie happily called out, and broke into a fast jog towards him.

Trixie was overjoyed to see her boyfriend back where he belonged—behind the wheel of a race car. “Speed! Oh, Speed, you had us scared half to death!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Speed's neck. “Thank goodness, you got out of there---!”

Speed flashed her a weak grin. For that brief moment in time he revelled in her attention, and held her close. “No kidding! I like barbeques. But not if I'm on the menu!”

Trixie eyed him with something akin to wry amusement. She observed the perspiration- and oil-soaked shirt...The white pants that no longer were white, thanks to all the oil stains, etc. “Speed Racer? You are a MESS!” she exclaimed, trying not to laugh.

Speed made a face. “Understatement of the year! Blame Wiley's basement for that,” he tiredly retorted. He gave Trixie another hug, this time leading into an even tighter embrace. God, did it feel good to hold her in his arms again... “Trix. I missed you. I don't know how many times I thought, I wouldn't make it...”

Trixie shook her head. “Now Speed, hush!” she said, gently pressing her right index finger to his lips. Speed flinched ever so slightly at the innocent gesture, something that didn't go unnoticed by either Trixie or Mrs. Racer. “You've got a race to win, and I sure hope you give that arrogant Zoomer Slick, what HE deserves!”

Speed smiled wanly. “I'll do my best.”

Before climbing back into his car Speed enjoyed a brief emotional moment with his mother. Tears of joy and relief were the order of the day, as Speed warmly hugged his mom. “Mom, I—I'm sorry I scared you and Pops, and put you through this awful mess,” he murmured, resting his head on her shoulder and relaxing momentarily in her comforting embrace. “I've never been more scared, in my life! This was all my fault--”

A very happy, relieved Mom Racer just smiled at him. “Oh, Speed, stop it! That's nonsense,” she answered softly, trying to reassure her emotionally and physically drained son. “Your father and I are just very glad, that you and Spritle are safe and unharmed.” She rubbed Speed's back and shoulders---he was tense, but that was to be expected considering he'd been tied up since roughly about six o'clock that morning---then lightly kissed his somewhat sticky forehead. “Now you just go out there and teach that Mr. Wiley, a thing or two about fair play!” Speed laughed, and promised his mother that he would do just that.

Suddenly, she comically held him out at arm's length, and wryly eyed his stained clothes. “I don't know which one of you boys gets dirty, the fastest. You, Spritle, or your father!” Mrs. Racer frowned at Speed. “It'll be the shower for you when you get home, young man.---But what am I supposed to do about  _ those _ _ ??” _ She pointed to Speed's badly -soiled shirt and pants.

Speed looked innocently at her, despite himself. “Uh...like Spritle suggested. Send our kidnappers, the dry cleaning bill?”

Mrs. Racer sighed, and shook her head. “Whatever am I going to do with you boys?”

Just then, four trumpeters dressed in red uniforms appeared on the track, ready to play an opening fanfare that would signal the start of the Trans-Country Race. “Hey, Speed. Better hurry it up, they're getting ready to start the race,” Sparky called out. He'd taken a few minutes to double check the Mach 5, while Speed was conversing with his mom.

Speed distractedly looked out towards the track, then abruptly snapped back to reality. “Ahh!” he gasped. After giving his mom a quick kiss on the cheek (and a kiss for Trixie as well), the teen racer made a running leap into the driver's seat and hurriedly fumbled with his seat belt, making sure it was secure. “Gotta go! See you all at the finish!” Speed cheerfully called out, just as he was about to start up the Mach 5.

“Speed! You be careful out there!” his mother called back.

“Don't worry, Mom. I will!” He turned the key in the ignition. The Mach 5's powerful engine roared to life. Speed floored the accelerator, and took off.

Sparky stood beside Trixie, a worried expression on his face. Speed was taking a really risky chance driving after an otherwise harrowing ordeal, and the mechanic knew it. “I dunno, Trixie. But I've got a real bad feeling, Speed's not gonna have an easy time of this race,” he said nervously.

Trixie stared at him, puzzled. “Why's that, Sparky?”

Sparky blew a heavy sigh. “Did you see how awful he looked? Even getting here was an adventure,” he said quietly, not wanting to alarm anyone. “He was overcorrecting on his steering, and he was riding the brakes more than usual---his reflexes have been slowed down. I'm tellin' ya, Trixie, Speed's running on empty after what he's been through. The only thing that's keeping him going right now, is pure adrenaline.”

Trixie was shocked. “Oh! Why didn't anybody stop him?” she exclaimed, alarmed.

“Pops and Racer X both tried. But you know Speed, he's as stubborn as Pops when he's got his mind set on something.”

“Oh, don't we all know that! “ Trixie bit down hard on her lower lip. Sparky's confession had her worried now. She sighed, and shook her head. Speed was a great guy, but sometimes he just didn't know when to quit, it seemed. “Oh, Speed! Why can't you stop being so stubborn, and listen for once??”

You know what they say, Trixie. Like father, like son.

The trumpeters proceeded to play a lively fanfare, which blared out over the track's sound system. High above the racecourse, a television commentator watched the unfolding events from the comfort of a clear glass booth. Cameras positioned along the entire course would provide those racing fans at home with exciting images of the race, from every conceivable angle. The track announcer boomed out, as the one o'clock start time approached:

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **Good afternoon, racing fans, and welcome to** _

_**the start of today's racing action! The great Trans-Country** _

_**Race is set to get underway in just a few minutes...Thirty-six** _

_**of the world's fastest cars are here, their drivers representing** _

_**nearly every country. They're lined up, and ready to go...** _

_**Over one hundred thousand fans are on hand today, anxiously** _

_**awaiting the start of this very important race...”** _

 

A wide angle camera shot panned the starting grid. The announcer continued;

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **Unfortunately, it looks like the field is missing** _

_**two key competitors. The Masked Racer is nowhere in sight.** _

_**This race may start without him, which means that the** _

_**number one contender would be the newcomer, 18-year-old** _

_**Speed Racer, driving the Mach 5! However, according to** _

_**earlier reports Speed hasn't been seen anywhere around** _

_**the track grounds, and rumor has it that the young man** _

_**may have been abducted by unknown assailants. We'll** _

_**keep you updated on this situation, when we get further** _

_**information...”** _

 

__ At length, a red race car with a number 2 on its sides drove up to the starting line. The announcer identified him as Zoomer Slick, driver for the Alpha Team.

Mr. Fixer was waiting for the young driver at the starting line. He approached Slick's car. “Now remember, no matter what, you've got to win,” he warned menacingly.

Slick grinned. He looked very confident. “Don't worry! I'll beat 'em all!” Fixer just nodded, and went back to his place in the grandstand.

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. The fans roared their approval as a familiar streak of white raced into view. Speed Racer had finally arrived in the Mach 5, and was pulling up to the starting line.

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER (shocked):  _ _ **“Wait a minute, what's this? Folks,** _

_**it looks like Speed Racer's made it, after all. But it looks** _

_**like he's been in some kind of a fight---!”** _

 

The track announcer and the fans weren't the only ones caught off guard by Speed's late entrance. Up in the stands, Mr. Wiley couldn't believe what he was seeing, either. “Speed Racer!” he fumed. “What's he doing here? He was supposed to be under guard! How did he escape??”

He turned on Fixer. “I thought you said, Moody and those three backup drivers would keep that boy under control!” Wiley snapped peevishly.

Even though Speed's presence was a shocker, Wiley's right-hand man wasn't too worried. “Relax, Boss. We'll take care of Speed yet,” Fixer promised. “Just watch.”

“What about Racer X?” Wiley inquired, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, Boss, there's one good thing. It looks like the Masked Racer is too chicken to be in the race,” Fixer replied, smirking. “We must've scared 'em off.”

Wiley nodded. He lit up a stogie, and puffed away on it. “Good.”

He watched the Mach 5 intently. Speed hunched over the steering wheel, fiercely concentrating on the race. Still, something wasn't right...Speed looked uncomfortable and ill at ease behind the wheel. In fact, he was feeling a little light-headed. He squinted his eyes and shook his head, trying to maintain his concentration.

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **The race begins in three minutes! Gentlemen,** _

_**start your engines!”** _

 

Speed revved the Mach 5's engine. The sound of the rumbling motor was his favorite sound in the world. It was the only sound he heard. Everything else---the screaming fans, the music, the other drivers---was non-existent in the teen's mind, although a nagging thought kept eating at him as he waited for the yellow flag to drop.  _ Who am I kidding?? Pops, Sparky, and Racer X were right----I'm  _ _ NOT _ _ in any condition to race!  _ Speed suddenly realized, although it was much too late to change his mind now. Sweat poured out from beneath his helmet and ran down both sides of his face, causing his visor to fog up. He noted too, that his hands were shaking.  _ Look at me! I'm shaking like a leaf, my hands and feet hurt, I'm sweating up a storm, and I'm still feeling the effects of that fire...But I can't back down now. I owe Racer X one. And I'm not about to let a bunch of cheats like the Alpha Team, take him down OR win the race! _

While Speed struggled with his own thoughts as he waited for the race to start, his father meanwhile was on his way to the track, thanks to Inspector Detector. As the unmarked police cruiser sped towards the race site the Racer family patriarch couldn't help but fret over his son's determination to run the Trans-Country Race. And after everything, Jack Wiley and his thugs had put that boy through---! “I hate to be um, rude, Inspector. But can't we go any faster?” Pops groaned. His eyes were filled with worry, and he was wringing his hands together. “I've got to stop Speed from racing. I mean---you saw how Speed looked. He's not fit to ride a bicycle, let alone drive a race car--!”

Inspector Detector smiled. “I understand, Mr. Racer. You're just being a father, and you're worried,” he replied. “Don't worry, we'll be at the track in less than five minutes.”

Pops blew a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks, Inspector. I just hope Speed doesn't have to learn things the hard way---the way his brother Rex did at his age!”

Pops? Since when did your boys, ever learn things the easy way???

Meanwhile. Back to the race track...


	18. The Raceway Showdown Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ho-hum, just another day at the track for Speed Racer...

 

 

 

 ** Chapter 18.  _ The Raceway Showdown Begins _ **

 

 

At one pm exactly a small, plump man in a blue suit ascended the steps to a platform next to the starting line. In his hand he carried a small yellow flag. The race was about to officially begin.

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER:  _ _ **“The head of the Racing Association will now** _

_**signal the start of the Trans-Country Race, by lowering the** _

_**flag.”** _

 

The yellow flag dropped. All thirty-five cars tore down the straightaway at lightning speed. Naturally, Speed got off to a fast start, leading the pack. Not far behind him was his Alpha Team rival, Zoomer Slick., and in the middle of the automotive logjam were the other Alpha Team members, all in identical red cars. Speed knew, he'd have to watch out for them---they definitely spelled trouble.

He had to win this race. He had to prove to Pops and Racer X, that he could really race!

About two laps into the race, the announcer's voice suddenly came over Speed's radio. He sounded very excited.  _ **“Hey, what's this? One more car has entered the Trans-Country Race. But I can't make out its number yet...”** _

The crowd gasped. Thousands of heads turned towards the starting line, to catch a glimpse of the late entry. As the car sped closer, the fans could see it was bright yellow, with a black 9 on its sides and nose end. At last, Racer X had finally joined the party.

The announcer was stunned.  _ **“Ladies and gentlemen, this is---this is incredible. It's the Masked Racer!”** _ he exclaimed hoarsely.

Instantly, the crowd turned ugly. Instead of cheering the unknown driver, they began to boo and yell derisively.

_ “We don't want him!” _

_ “He'll cause too many crashes!” _

_“Get him off the track!”_

Probably the most unhappiest man in the crowd, though, was Jack Wiley. He rose from his seat and stared down at the action on the track. “I don't want the Masked Racer winning this race!” he fumed.

“Don't worry,” Fixer assured him. “I have the perfect plan to take care of him.”

Mr. Wiley grinned. “Excellent!”

Racer X may have gotten a late start because of the efforts to rescue Speed from a near-fatal situation, but he sped to the head of the pack quickly and was soon just yards behind the Mach 5. “Sparky, look! The Masked Racer's gaining on Speed!” Trixie cried.

“Speed'll keep his lead. I hope,” Sparky said, somewhat on edge.

The Mach 5 roared past Trixie and Sparky. So far, Speed had managed to keep his physical problems under control and the car on the track, much to Sparky's relief.

The grand question was...How long could Speed keep this pace up, before his body decided to quit on him??

Sparky held up a sign with a number '4' on it. “Fourth lap, Speed!” he yelled out.

A perspiring Speed looked in the rearview mirror, and saw the Masked Racer closing in on him. Behind the Shooting Star was Zoomer Slick, in the number 2 car. Speed tried to increase the distance between him and Racer X, but the Masked Racer caught up like a sleek jungle cat closing in on its prey and pulled up alongside the Mach 5. “Speed, I warned you! Get out of this race while you still can!” Racer X called out, a worried tone to his voice. “This could get ugly---I spotted Wiley in the stands as I passed the start and believe me, he's not happy to see either one of us. And I think you know, what that means---there's going to be a lot of trouble here, and you're going to be right in the middle of it!”

A gasping Speed shook his head. He had come too far and gone through too much hell to back down, and he wasn't about to give up now. “Uh-uh. No can do!” he yelled back, and gave his car the gas.

Each time the cars zoomed around the track, Speed grew more confident—or so he thought. Everything was going smoothly. He was staying in the lead, but he had competition—and, his own worsening physical condition---to think about. The next six or seven laps would really tell the story..

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER:  _ _ **“We're now in the twentieth lap of the great Trans-** _

_**Countyr Race, and the leading cars are still the Mach 5, driven** _

_**by Speed Racer; the Masked Racer's Number 9 car, the Shooting** _

_**Star...They're followed by Zoomer Slick of the Alpha Team, in** _

_ **** _ _ **the red number 2 car. The rest are following close behind. All** _

_**cars will be pulling into their respective pit areas soon for re-** _

_**fueling and quick repairs.”** _

 

Mr. Fixer nudged his boss. “That's what I've been waiting for. When the Masked Racer comes in for refueling, the pit crew will fill up his radiator with gasoline instead of water!”

“The radiator?” Wiley asked.

Fixer nodded, and grinned evilly. “Just wait 'til he he starts up...”

Wiley's face suddenly lit up in understanding. “He'll go,  _ bang!”  _ he exclaimed. He looked through a pair of binoculars at the pit crew, an expression of smug satisfaction on his face. “Good job. I see our boys waiting.”

Over in Racer X's pit, two men in yellow jumpsuits hung around, waiting for the Masked Racer to pull in. They seemed to be normal mechanics, but they were really two of Jack Wiley's thugs. Speed's older brother was due into the pit at any moment now, and what Rex Racer (aka, Racer X) didn't know...

 _...Just might kill him_.

Fortunately for Rex, two tiny heroes were hiding nearby. Spritle and Chim Chim had left the Mach 5's pit area (Mom had given them money for candy, of course) and were making their way back through the crowds when they overheard Wiley and Fixer talking about their evil plan. “Chim Chim! Didya hear that?” Spritle whispered, bug-eyed, to his pet chimp. “We've gotta go, and help save the Masked Racer! I mean—he saved Speed's hide from that awful fire, now we gotta help him!” Chim Chim hooted softly, and off the pair went...on yet another mini-adventure.

Spritle and Chim Chim ran off through the crowd. They had to reach the pit area before Racer X did. Spritle darted between the legs of the race fans in the stands, while Chim Chim jumped from head to head. They finally jumped over the retaining wall that separated the fans from the track and ran to the pit stop.

The two goons were standing next to a tank marked “F” (for fuel). Fortunately for Speed's little brother and his pet chimp, the men were so absorbed in watching the track, waiting for Racer X to pull in, that they never saw the two half-pints sneaking around.

Spritle and Chim Chim worked fast, to say the least. They wheeled the tank away and replaced it with a plain water tank. Then they snuck the fuel tank back over to the Alpha Team's pit. Wiley's thugs never even suspected a thing!

Five minutes later, Racer X squealed into the pit area. The thugs ran over, wheeling the tank. “We've got water for your radiator,” one of the men announced.

They opened the hood of the Shooting Star and began to fill the radiator with a hose. Jack Wiley observed the scene through his binoculars, laughing. He had no idea, that he'd been tricked...

...Tricked by one 'stupid little boy, who scares easily'---Spritle Racer. Go, Spritle!

The men finished the job. Racer X zoomed back onto the track. Mr. Wiley and his henchmen watched, waiting for the Shooting Star to blow up.

Nothing happened. Racer X sped safely down the track, back to the front of the pack while in the Alpha Team pit there was a loud explosion—their driver was the unfortunate recipient of Spritle and Chim Chim's switcheroo! Spritle and Chim Chim cheered from the safety of the Mach 5's pit. Another evil plot foiled, by the littlest Racer and his pet chimp!

Wiley and Fixer meanwhile, were confused. What the heck went wrong with their brilliant plan? Finally, an annoyed Wiley gritted his teeth in anger. “Go to Plan B,” he ordered.

Fixer immediately waved his hat in the air, sending a signal to Zoomer Slick. Slick saw it, and grinned.

_ Slam!!!  _ Just as planned, Slick deliberately crashed into the car. The force of the crash loosened Racer X's left rear tire. X spun out of control, nearly crashing into the guardrail. He quickly regained control, however, and managed to avoid the crash. The tire went spiraling down the track, just as one of the other members of the Alpha Team approached. Driver Three yelled out as the rolling tire came toward him, then sharply spun his steering wheel to avoid the tire. He lost control of the car as a result.

_ Wham!!!  _ The fellow collided into the guardrail, crushing the front of the car like an accordion. The driver screamed, then madly shook his fist. He was out of the race!

Fixer wasn't through with his bag of tricks yet. One of the thugs sat in the stands, using a mirror to reflect the bright sunlight right into Racer X's eyes! When the Masked Racer turned his head to avoid the glare, it gave another of the Alpha Team drivers the chance to sneak up on X's right.

_ Slam!!!  _ The driver crashed into the Shooting Star hard. Racer X spun out, struggling to gain control of the car. The mirror trick backfired, as the glare blinded the other driver. He lost control of his car and plowed into the guardrail. Just as the car burst into flames, the frightened driver ran to safety.

X's car skidded down the track on its two right wheels. It was headed straight for Alpha Team car 1, and although the driver did everything to avoid colliding with Racer X, he couldn't steer out of the way in time and literally flew over the Shooting Star. The car landed with a sickening crash, and all four wheels exploded from the impact.

Demolition derby, anyone?

Back in the mechanics' pit, Spritle and Chim Chim watched the race alongside Spritle's parents. Pops had finally arrived during the twenty-fifth lap of the race, looking worried. “What'd I miss?” he asked, breathless. “How's Speed holding...?”

His wife smiled. “Not to worry, dear. Speed's doing just fine,” Mrs. Racer replied. “He's in the lead.”

Pops nodded. Even though he was worried about Speed's safety and his physical shape, he couldn't help but also feel a lot of pride as he watched his son roar by in the Mach 5. “Then I suppose, I won't stop him---this time,” Speed's dad said, with a light chuckle. “And I guess we also need to thank Racer X for his help, too.”

Spritle meanwhile, watched the on-track happenings through a pair of binoculars. The track was a mess—twisted metal everywhere, it seemed—but Speed was way ahead of all the trouble. An amazing feat, considering how the young racer was feeling by now...Most of his competition had been wiped out. “Yay, Speed!” the little boy cheered wildly.

Pops grabbed the binoculars from Spritle. “Give me those!” He peered through the binoculars, and soon his own excitement grew. Gone were his threats of grounding Speed—at least, for now. He couldn't deny it---his son was driving an incredible race. “Come on, Speed! You can win this!” Pops yelled enthusiastically, much to Mrs. Racer's amusement.

At that point, Speed raced once more past Sparky. This time, instead of a lap number, Sparky had drawn a picture of Pops on the card. This was his way of alerting Speed, his dad was at the track.

Speed got the message, all right. He winced, and made a face. Nothing---not even Pops being there!---could break his concentration now, however. There was less than ten laps to go, and he was still holding the lead. To his left was Zoomer Slick, with Racer X trailing behind, doing his best on only three tires.

Speed gasped, and gritted his teeth. He could really feel the effects of his captivity and the fire now: his skin was clammy , his breathing increasingly rapid and shallow, and he was feeling more and more light-headed with each successive turn.  _ Just hold on,  _ he anxiously told himself.  _ I can do this! _

Suddenly, the picture changed---for the worst. Two more members of the Alpha Team appeared almost out of nowhere and began to target the Mach 5. Cars 4 and 5 crept up on either side of Speed, then moved quickly in front of him. They weaved back and forth, making it impossible for Speed to pass.

Then, without warning, Car #4 pulled back.  _ Bam!  _ It slammed Speed from behind.

_ Bam!  _ At the same time, Car #5 backed up. It rammed the Mach 5 directly in the nose.

“AHHH!!!!” Speed cried, wide-eyed with terror.

The double blow sent the Mach 5 spinning wildly out of control. Speed steered as hard as he could, trying to get the car back on track.

There was nothing he could do.  _ The Mach 5 was about to crash into the guardrail! _

A collective gasp of horror went up from the crowd.  _ **“Oh, my! That was quite a hit, taken by the Mach 5!”** _ __ the announcer shouted excitedly.

Pops, Mrs. Racer, Trixie and Sparky looked on in shock from the safety of the pit. “Oh, no! Speed!” Trixie cried, her face turning white with fear.

“Pull out, Speed! You can do it!” an alarmed Sparky yelled.

Pops Racer was steaming. “Cheaters!!! Those two oughta be disqualified!” he bellowed, shaking a fist in anger at the two Alpha Team cars as they passed by. “That was a low--down, dirty trick they pulled on my boy---!!!” He watched tensely, as Speed struggled to bring the Mach 5 under control. This was precisely the thing that Pops feared---and the reason why, he felt Speed wasn't ready to go pro. “---And why isn't he able to pull out of that spin?? For God's sake, Speed, straighten her out or you'll crash!!!”

Suddenly, from out of the blue, Racer X zoomed in between Speed and the guardrail. His quick thinking saved the Mach 5 from a horrific crash, but unfortunately X wasn't so lucky. He skidded along the curved guardrail like a skateboarder doing a half-pipe. The Shooting Star flipped over, landing directly in the middle of the track. Another racer tried to avoid an accident by steering around the Masked Racer, but only made matters worse by colliding right into Alpha Team Car 4. The red car flew up into the air and slammed back down onto the track, bursting into flames.

Racer X banged into the flaming car, and his own car spun out of control again. The yellow car stopped against the concrete wall.

Speed saw the crash in his rearview mirror, and gasped. He quickly stepped on his brakes and turned the Mach 5 around, whipping into an 180 degree spin. To him, it was a no-brainer.  _ That's three times, Racer X has saved me. Now it's MY turn, to help him!  _

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **It's the last lap of the race. But Speed Racer** _

_**is going back to the scene of the accident! Folks, this is just** _

_**downright unusual---!”** _

 

The brakes squealed loudly as Speed stopped the Mach 5. Despite his own weakened physical state, he managed to leap out and run over to Racer X as the older man climbed out of his car. He was groaning, and clutching at his arm. “You shouldn't have stopped racing because of me, Speed,” X firmly reprimanded his younger brother. “I'll be all right. Go on, get back into your car.”

Speed protested. “B-but...you saved my life! I'm not going to leave you,” he insisted. “You need my help!”

“We're in the middle of a big race,” Racer X reminded him. “Now isn't the time for personal feelings, Speed. Get back into your car. I'm going to get back into mine. It can still run, and I'll do my best to win.”

With a pained expression on his face, Speed's elder brother pulled himself to his feet, clutching the side of his race car for support. “I'm going to beat you, Speed,” he promised.

Speed realized then, there was nothing more that he could do. If the Masked Racer wanted to race, then that was exactly what he'd get! He shakily climbed back into the Mach 5, buckled up, then gave the sleek white race car the gas.

A very worried Rex Racer watched as his little brother took off. He didn't like what he saw---Speed's physical appearance concerned him greatly. He'd seen symptoms of adrenaline overload only once before, and as he recalled the condition had knocked a fellow Interpol agent out cold for three straight days. And if Speed wasn't careful, he was heading down that very same path.  _ Speed! I'm worried about you. Try to make it across the finish line, without passing out---!  _ Rex silently fretted, and began the herculean task of getting the Shooting Star back into the race.

The crowd of racing fans could barely wait to see what would happen next.

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Wild Finish To A Day Of Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speed learns the hard way, kidnapping and racing don't mix!

 

 

 ** Chapter 19.  _ Wild Finish To A Day of Chaos _ **

 

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER:  _ _ **“This is the final lap of the Trans-Country** _

_**Race, folks. Alpha Team Car Number 2 has a huge lead, thanks** _

_**to all the accidents we've seen today. Racer X is pushing** _

_**his car to the side, where he'll try to make some repairs** _

_**...Speed Racer has dropped back. He seems to be handling** _

_**the Mach 5 in an unusually erratic manner---whether that** _

_**double-team hit he took has anything to do with that, it's** _

_**hard to say. But it looks like Car 2, Zoomer Slick, is going** _

_**to win this race!”** _

 

Up in the stands, Alpha Team owner/Trans-Country Racing Committee member Jack Wiley puffed away on another of his infamous cigars, watching the unfolding drama with smug satisfaction. Despite the minor setback caused by Speed's escape, he felt everything else was going his team's way; it looked as if Alpha Team would take the Trans-Country Race by default. The Masked Racer's car had been disabled, and young Speed Racer was having all sorts of trouble of his own---not the least of which being, how he was feeling physically. Judging by the way the teen was handling the Mach 5, Wiley surmised that Speed was simply too worn out from his kidnap ordeal, to even make it across the finish line.

Which was fine by him. This would be an even better way of getting back at Pops Racer, than Fixer's original plan. Holding Speed captive long enough to physically impair but not harm him, so the young racer couldn't finish the race----now that was a real stroke of good luck, Wiley chuckled deviously to himself. And now, it appeared that Racer X was out of the picture as well---a two for one deal. Imagine---Racer X and Speed Racer, both knocked out in the final lap!

Hey, pal. You shouldn't celebrate just yet. Not 'til the checkered flag drops on the person who crosses the finish line, first!

Racer X worked quickly to repair his car. Speed, meanwhile, had finally managed to regain control of the Mach 5 and was now intensely focused on the red car ahead of him. Zoomer Slick had been playing dirty all day, and Speed thought it was time to teach his rival a lesson in playing fair and square.

There was one small glitch in Speed's plan, however. The combined stress from being held captive together with the excitement of racing finally got to him, enough to considerably affect his driving skills. By now, he could barely stay conscious...Breathing heavily, his head was pounding and he was becoming increasingly dizzy. His skin moist with perspiration and his throat dry as a desert, Speed was starting to see double. At that point, all bets were off---he knew he was in deep trouble. “ _C'monnn!!!”_ he muttered irritably, gritting his teeth and willing himself to stay conscious. “ _I can make it, I know I can! I've got to win this. For Racer X!”_

Shaking, gasping for air, he floored the accelerator. The crowd roared with excitement as they watched the Mach 5 suddenly come up from behind. Even the track announcer was all excited.

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **Here comes Speed Racer! I don't know how** _

_**he did it but he's got the Mach 5 back under control, and** _

_**he's coming up fast. Folks, this is going to be a jim-dandy** _

_**of a finish!”** _

 

“Yeah!” Sparky hollered, grinning ear to ear. “Give 'em heck, Speed!”

“Go, Speed, go, go!” Trixie cheered, jumping up and down.

“C'mon, son! Show that Alpha Team stooge, what we Racers are really made of!” Pops shouted happily. Even Speed's mom was all excited, adding her own vocal encouragement to the mix.

Spritle and Chim Chim got in on the act as well. “Hooray! Hooray for Speed!” Spritle cried, and Chim Chim did a couple of excited backflips.

Suddenly, the announcer cut in again, absolutely amazed.  _ **“And---don't look now, but the Masked Racer is back in the race!”** _

Speed and Slick were racing side by side. Slowly but surely, exhaustion was claiming the younger Racer. One could see the sweat just dripping down Speed's face, into his open shirt collar. His breathing was becoming more and more labored, and he was clearly fighting to stay awake at the wheel. Then Racer X roared right between them, catching them with amazing speed. The racing official stood at the finish line, holding the black and white checkered flag. From his vantage point, all three cars were dead even as they roared to the finish.

Speed bravely braced himself for the final push of the race. Forget about proving himself to Pops and Racer X as a racer---he now realized as things started to go dim on him, he'd made a serious mistake. All he cared about right now was getting the Mach 5 across that finish line to a safe spot and park it, before he blacked out!

With one final desperate effort, he stepped on the gas.

The last seconds of the race were super fast, but they felt like slow motion to Speed. He surged forward, willing the Mach 5 to move forward with every last ounce of strength he had left in his aching, exhausted body. The car charged ahead, roaring past the finish line and taking the checkered flag. _ **“Speed Racer is the winner!”** _ the track announcer yelled.  _ **“The Masked Racer takes second place!”** _

A gasping Speed couldn't believe it. He brought the Mach 5 to a complete stop just past the finish line, then slumped wearily in his seat. His chest heaved rapidly. A tired grin broke across his otherwise ashen face. He had done the impossible---he'd beaten his idol, the Masked Racer, in a legitimate race!

Up in the stands, Mr. Jack Wiley was one very upset racing team owner. Not only did he lose out on an opportunity to embarrass the Racer family by kidnapping both Speed and Spritle, but his team lost the Trans-Country Race, ironically, to the two drivers he feared the most----Speed and Racer X. He growled, and menacingly waved his cane around, accidently bonking Mr. Fixer over the head with it!

Over in the victorious Go Team's pit area, a wild celebration of sorts was in progress. Trixie, Sparky, and Spritle cheered, waved, and generally whooped it up, while Chim Chim did a victory somersault. “Wow! Whatta finish!” a deliriously happy Sparky yelled. “Way to go, Speed!”

Even Pops Racer wasn't above joining in the celebration. He too couldn't contain his excitement and fatherly pride over his son's achievement. “Hooray! I always knew you'd be able to do it, Speed!” Pops cheered from the sidelines. “That's showing that idiot Wiley, NOBODY messes with my sons and gets away with it!”

His wife glanced at him, with an odd smile on her face. Pops suddenly remembered, he was supposed to be angry at Speed for entering this race in the first place, let alone the foolishness that led to his and Spritle's kidnapping. He frowned, and started to shake a fist into the air. “You disobeyed my orders, Speed!” Pops started to holler---but then just as suddenly burst into a great peal of laughter. After what he and over a hundred thousand other people in the grandstands had witnessed that afternoon, there was no way Pops could stay mad at Speed---that young man had just redefined the true meaning of the word courage.

And, besides. Winning did wonders for a sour disposition.

Laughing, Pops relaxed in the glory of the moment. “Aw, heck. I have to admit it, I'm awfully proud of that boy.” He reached for his wife's hand. “C'mon, honey. Let's go see the champ,” Pops said, his face beaming with pride.

But then...Something went terribly wrong.

Speed had just removed his helmet, and was waving to the cheering fans. Confetti descended all around him, and for the moment everything seemed right with the young racer as he savored his victory. But as he got out of the Mach 5, he suddenly felt dizzy and ill. _ No!!! What---What's happening to me??  _ Speed panicked. His world seemed to be fading...Into a black nothingness.  _ I'm blacking out! _ He squinted his eyes and shook his head, trying desperately to clear the cobwebs that seemed to be taking over his brain. Gasping for breath, Speed clutched at the door of the Mach 5 for support...

_ ...Then with a sudden loud cry of distress he collapsed in a heap to the ground, unconscious. _

A hushed silence fell over the stunned crowd. Nobody knew what to make of this sudden turn of events, not even the track announcer.  __ _ **“Oh my God!! Ladies and gentlemen, there seems to be some kind of problem at the finish line. Speed Racer is down!”** _ the announcer cried out in alarm.  _ **“Something is terribly wrong here. The race officials are all rushing over...and here come members of Speed's pit crew. It looks like, someone's calling for an ambulance...”** _

When the announcment was made, it didn't take long for Pops Racer and the rest of the crew to react to what was happening. The Go Team shifted into immediate action. “Speed!” his father gasped, alarmed. He broke into a frantic run, his wife following him. “I told that boy, he wasn't in any shape to be racing! Not after the roughing up he took at the hands of Wiley and his thugs earlier! He should've gone straight home, like I wanted him to--”

Sparky, Trixie, Spritle and Chim Chim all followed. They all were very worried. “We all tried to tell 'em that, Pops!” Speed's mechanic huffed and puffed, as he and the others tried to keep pace with Pops and Mrs. Racer. “Racer X tried, Mrs. Racer tried, I tried---he just wouldn't listen!”

Mrs. Racer's eyes shone with deep worry. “Oh, I hope it isn't anything serious...!”

Her equally-worried husband gritted his teeth, staring ahead at the gathering around the Mach 5. “We'll know, soon enough.”

The group hurried on foot to the finish line. Before they got there, however, a familiar yellow and black race car pulled to a noisy halt alongside the Mach 5. The Shooting Star had officially crossed the finish line in second place, moments before Speed went down. Out jumped Racer X, a look of deep concern on his face.

 

_ TRACK ANNOUNCER: “ _ _ **This doesn't look good, folks. Speed Racer is** _

_**still down on the ground...I don't think he's even moved yet.** _

_ **Hold on, here comes the Masked Racer to check things out...”** _

 

Racer X spotted his unconscious younger brother lying face down on the ground, next to his car. “Speed!!!” he shouted, alarmed.

He ran quickly and knelt beside Speed. Rex gently turned the boy over onto his side and checked the side of his neck for a pulse. It was strong and steady. “I was afraid, this might happen,” Speed's elder brother muttered to himself, and sighed helplessly. There wasn't much he could do, except call for medical help. He gathered Speed into his arms, and held him close. To Rex's relief, his little brother now appeared to be breathing normally, like he was asleep. In fact, he noted wryly, Speed seemed to have a peaceful, almost angelic expression on his face.

As the Masked Racer gently cradled his unconscious brother Pops, Mrs. Racer, and the rest of Speed's crew rushed over, out of breath and extremely worried. “Racer X!” Pops shouted, hurrying over. He bent over to get a look at his unconscious son. “What happened? What's wrong with Speed?”

Racer X sighed. “I don't think it's anything to worry about, Pops. I doubt there's anything internally wrong with him. He's breathing normally, and his pulse is strong,” he replied quietly. He glanced down at the sleeping Speed (in effect, that was what Speed really was doing), and sighed again. “It's just a question of when, he'll wake up.”

The Racers and their friends were mystified by his answer. “When, he'll...?” Trixie repeated slowly, baffled. “What do you mean by that, Racer X?”

X gave her a tired half-smile. “It's quite simple, Trixie. The stress of his kidnapping combined with the race itself, pushed Speed beyond sheer exhaustion,” the racer answered. “Basically, he knocked himself out—or rather, his own body did.” He went on to explain further. “I actually saw the effect of this condition once, while I was in Paris. A friend of mine, slept three days straight.---It's called,  _ adrenaline overload or adrenaline poisoning.” _

At the mention of the word “poisoning,” everyone immediately thought the worst. Well—except for Spritle. He was just plain confused. “Huh??? Adrenaline, whaat??” the little boy asked, totally lost. “What's that?”

“Racer X. You're not saying, someone poisoned our son---” Mrs. Racer exclaimed, horrified at the thought.

X chuckled. “No, not at all, Mrs. Racer. It has nothing to do with that. More to do with a natural biological response,” he replied, smiling at his mom. “I'll try to explain it, as simply as I can.” He proceeded to explain the fight-or-flight response, all the while silently thanking his Interpol training for this particular piece of current medical information. “It has to do with the body's response to extreme stress. The body produces a substance called  _ adrenaline, _ which helps a person decide in times of stress whether to fight their way out of danger or to flee from it. Sometimes there's too much adrenaline for the body to handle, and it has to absorb the excess.”

“So...what happens then?” Pops asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, it creates a nice little sedative effect than can keep a person asleep anywhere from 24 to 72 hours. Now, I'm not a medical professional, Pops. But I suspect, that's exactly what happened to Speed,” Racer X answered. “He'll be all right, once he sleeps it off.” He glanced down again at his sleeping brother, then in a comic aside to Pops added, “One thing's for certain. Speed won't be doing any driving, for the next few days.”

Pops just smiled when he heard that comment. No, Speed certainly wouldn't be doing any driving...Not until he had full medical clearance.

Or, his father's permission!

Comedy aside, Speed's dad was deeply worried. He glanced over at Speed, and his eyes started to water slightly. He reached out, and gently brushed the hair off his son's forehead. There were a lot of “if only's” running through the former wrestler's mind, as he affectionately stroked Speed's sweat-drenched hair. _If only he hadn't jumped all over Speed for triggering the events that led to this situation...If only he could've stopped Speed from taking the Mach 5, if only..._ Pops sighed, and bit his lower lip. “Awww, Speed. I guess your mother's right, you really DO take after your old man,” he whispered to the unconscious teenager.

At that point, an ambulance arrived at the scene. Two attendants hurried out of the back, bearing a stretcher. Racer X saw the men approaching, and proceeded to carefully hand Speed's limp form over to his father. “The ambulance is here. I've got to go,” he said, rising to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Speed's mom asked, a little surprised.

“I've got a couple of trophies to collect. One of them is Speed's---after all, he is the official winner of the Trans-Country Race.” Racer X paused, then suddenly looked off to his right. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Alpha Team head Jack Wiley and his right-hand man, Mr. Fixer, trying to slip away through the crowd, using the crowd to cover their movement. “And secondly, I think there's a little unfinished buisness with Jack Wiley, that has to be taken care of. I'll meet you all later at the hospital.” X excused himself to Speed's family and friends, then leapt into his car and roared away.

Trixie and Sparky looked on as the Shooting Star pulled away. “Gee! That Racer X, he sure is strange,” Sparky remarked.

Trixie was equally perplexed. “But he always seems to know, when Speed needs help,” she pointed out.

Sparky shrugged. “In any case, I'm glad he's with us and not against us!”

A grim-faced Pops Racer stood next to his visibly-upset wife, a comforting arm around her shoulders as they watched Speed being bundled onto a stretcher then loaded into the waiting ambulance. What should have been a victory celebration of a young man's on-track accomplishments, now became a matter of medical necessity. “Shh!! It's ok, honey,” Pops whispered, hugging his wife tightly. “Speed's a strong boy, he'll come out of this. I'm sure of it.”

A shaken Mrs. Racer sniffled back her tears. “I hope you're right.”

Still, everyone had questions about the man called Racer X, as the Racers, Sparky and Trixie followed the ambulance to the local hospital. Just who was this mysterious man, and what was he really about? Why did he always seem to show up, whenever Speed got in over his head into trouble?

Pops especially found himself wondering. Three times that day, this fellow had come to Speed's rescue. Also, there seemed to be something oddly familiar about the man's mannerisms and actions...  _ If I hadn't known any better, I swear I'm looking at Rex all over again, _ he told himself.  _ Rex always looked out for Speed, no matter what the situation was. And Speed totally idolized his brother---! It's so uncanny, how this Racer X acts so much like our Rex where Speed's concerned. My God—he even smiles like Rex!! _

_Deja vu_ , eh Pops??

 


	20. Heroes Don't Always Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny, how sometimes a catastrophe can bring a family together--even if they don't recognize one of their own. STORY IS NOW COMPLETE.

 

 

 

Chapter 20.  _ Heroes Don't Always Come Home _

 

 

 _**Speed has both the courage and the heart, to be a champion.** _

_**Unfortunately for him, today his body just couldn't match his heart.** _

                                                                                                                      ---Rex Racer, aka Racer X---

 

 

 _**The Masked Racer is the real winner, a real champion. I saw for** _

_**myself, how skillfully he can drive. He's a far better driver than** _

_**anybody. He's a far better driver, than I am..** _

                                                                                                                      ---Speed Racer, on Racer X (aka Rex Racer)---

 

 

 Pops Racer hated hospitals.

Not that he was a frequent visitor to the ER, mind you. Thankfully, visits to the hospital by any one member of the Racer family were few and far between----well, the last real incidents came with the birth of the three Racer boys, the usual childhood illnesses, and later, when both Speed and Rex would get into the occasional fight at school. But this time...

...This time, it was different. Why Speed had collapsed at the finish line was a complete mystery to the doctors attending him in the ER—although it wasn't too much of a mystery to Racer X, who had a pretty good idea as to the cause. All of Speed's blood work had come back normal, there were no real physical injuries to speak of other than a few nasty rope burns on his wrists and a few scrapes about his face where he'd fallen face first on the asphalt track...

...They just couldn't wake Speed up.

It was a long, tense wait in the hospital waiting room, for Speed's family and friends. Pops, it seemed, couldn't sit still, not even for a minute. He kept pacing back and forth, wringing his hands together and occasionally muttering to himself. Spritle sat in his mother's lap, asleep. Chim Chim sat quietly in the chair next to Mrs. Racer, for a change actually guarding Spritle's bags of candy and  generally being on his best behavior...Sparky tried to relax with a  _ Car and Driver _ magazine he'd picked up off of one of the end tables in the waiting room, while poor Trixie sat across from him, fretting anxiously about her ailing boyfriend. The only person missing from this scenario was, of course, Racer X... 

After a wait of nearly two hours, a nurse entered the waiting room. “Mr and Mrs. Racer? The doctor will see you now,” the woman said pleasantly , motioning for Speed's parents to follow her. “Speed's still unconscious, but you'll be able to go in and sit with him shortly.”

Pops and Mrs. Racer exchanged concerned looks. “Well? Let's see what the doctor has to say. Then let's go see our son,” he said, taking his wife by the hand.

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It was well after nine-thirty in the evening when Speed finally began to stir. He'd been unconscious for nearly six hours. He groaned, and shifted restlessly under the comfortable white covers of his hospital bed. He still looked pale and disoriented, but rest and plenty of intravenous fluids had begun to do their work—some color had already returned to his cheeks and he was looking more rested. Both of his wrists were bandaged lightly with gauze wrap, protecting the raw, painful surface of his skin where the ropes had chafed and rubbed him extensively. “Everyone, look! I think he's coming around!” Trixie exclaimed softly, standing at the left side of the bed and watching Speed carefully. She and Sparky had joined the rest of Speed's family in his hospital room earlier that afternoon, shortly after Speed had been admitted as a patient and his parents informed about his condition.

She leaned over the bedrail, and gently nudged her somewhat disoriented (and very disheveled!) boyfriend. “Speed, you sleepy head. Wake up!” Trixie playfully admonished him.

“Speed! Hey, c'mon, pal. It's time to come back to earth!” Sparky added, a relieved grin on his face. “The race is over. You won!”

“I got your favorite candy, Speed. A whole bag of bulls-eyes!” Spritle chimed in. He too, wanted to help bring his big brother around. Crawling up onto his half-conscious brother's bed, he tried to dangle a bag of the cream-filled caramels in front of Speed's face.

Speed's eyes weakly flickered open. For a moment, everything was a blur, but soon his vision cleared and he was able to focus his eyes. He let out another weak groan, as he attempted to stretch his stiff and very achy joints. “Ohhh, my aching head—no. My aching everything!!!” he mumbled. “Trixie? Did you get the number of the race car that ran me over?? And why is there a bag of candy in my face? Am I hallucinating, or something??”

A quiet laugh went around the room. This was a good sign—Speed wasn't even fully awake yet, but already he was cracking jokes! “Speed! Oh, thank goodness, he's awake!” Mrs. Racer said, breathing a huge sigh of relief. She began to fuss over Speed as only a mother could on such occasions, much to her son's chagrin and her husband's amusement.

At the same time, she smiled at her youngest boy. “Spritle, dear. Why don't you put the candy on the bedside table? I don't think Speed'll be needing that just yet,” Mrs. Racer kindly suggested.

Spritle nodded. “OK, Mom.” He jumped off Speed's bed, and went to put the candy on the table next to a huge trophy. Then, he got back on the bed. “OK, I put the candy away.”

Pops chuckled heartily as he watched the affectionate interplay between mother and sons. His own eyes reflected a sense of relief and thankfulness, that the ordeal was truly over and Speed would be all right. “Well, whaddya know. My son, the comedian!” he quipped.

It was then that Speed became fully aware of his family and best friends at his bedside. His eyes flew wide open, and a tired grin broke across his face. “Mom! Pops! How long have  _ you _ been here?” he asked happily. “How long have...How long, have I been out??”

His father smiled broadly. “Too long, son. Too long!” Pops replied. He took a seat on the edge of Speed's bed. “Actually, we've been here since they admitted you---at least, since four o'clock this afternoon. Youv'e been asleep, for nearly six hours now. It's already nine-thirty.”

He paused briefly. Then, his emotions got the best of Pops. The burly car designer reached for his ailing son, and held him close. “Speed.---Damn it, boy, don't you ever scare us like that again!” Pops murmured, hugging Speed so tightly that the young man thought he might suffocate.

Speed winced, and made a pained face. “OK, OK! Pops, ease up on the bear hugs, please! I'm still kind of sore!” he comically begged. “Besides. You're gonna squash me, or at the very least kink up this IV line--”

Suddenly, he did a double-take. He saw the two IV bags hanging on a metal pole to the left of his bed, and the line that ran from them into the crook of his left arm. “Wait a minute. An IV line---!! What's  _ that _ doing in my arm??” Speed exclaimed, really baffled. “Where am I??”

Trixie laughed. “In a hospital bed. Where you should have been a lot sooner, you silly boy,” she said sweetly, and gave her bewildered beau a light kiss on the cheek.

Sparky grinned. He playfully tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “Uh...hello, Speed, you blacked out just after you crossed the finish line. Remember?” he reminded his still-groggy, half-asleep pal.

For a brief second, Speed's face went blank. His memories of the Trans-Country Race were but a distant dream to him, now. Nothing was in focus at the moment, save for those horrible bits and pieces he could recall of Wiley's mansion and the resulting fire. “I—I did?” he repeated, still slightly dazed. He rubbed his eyes, then tried to shake the cobwebs from his sluggish brain. “Oh, wait. I vaguely remember, now. I barely made it across...” Speed took a deep breath. “So...who won?”

His mom smiled, and lightly kissed his forehead. “Why, you did, sweetheart,” Mrs. Racer said, adjusting the pillows so that Speed could sit up more comfortably in bed. “And there's the proof, over on that night stand. Your first-place trophy.” She pointed to the enormous gold and marble trophy sitting on the night stand to the right of Speed's bed.

Speed gasped in amazement at the trophy. He couldn't believe the size of that thing! “Ohh, man! I can hardly believe it. Is that really mine?”

“Of course it is, you silly. You've earned it! “ Trixie laughed. “So. Where are you going to put it, Speed?”

Speed made a face, and with his free hand scratched the back of his head in puzzlement. “Gee! Now that you've mentioned it, Trixie, it's way too big for the fireplace mantle. I guess we're gonna have to get a real big trophy case,” he deadpanned, winking playfully at his father.

Spritle slid off the bed. “I wanna hold the trophy!” Speed's little brother eagerly declared. “Let me hold the trophy!” Chim Chim hooted his pleasure at the idea.

Speed kept a straight face. No way, could Spritle pick that thing up by his lonesome---! “I dunno, Spritle. Are you sure, you can handle it? That trophy's almost as tall as you,” he teased. He was definitely starting to feel a lot better. “And maybe, just as heavy.”

Spritle comically placed his hands on his hips, looking very cross. “Heavy, huh?” he yelled out, giving a smirking Speed a dirty look. “I'll show you heavy, Speed Racer!” The youngster motioned to Chim Chim. “C'mon, Chim Chim. We'll show Speed, what real heavy's about!” Spritle said, eager to show up his big brother.

Leave it to Spritle and Chim Chim, to provide the comic relief---again. The pair sauntered over to the nightstand. Standing on their tiptoes, they attempted to lift the huge trophy off the stand. Even with Chim Chim's help---the little chimp jumped up onto the night stand and endeavored to lift from the back of the trophy---Spritle still couldn't lift it! “Aaaack!!!!” he cried, tumbling backwards.

His reaction brought forth a loud burst of laughter from everyone in the room. “Grow a few more feet, Spritle, and then just maybe, you'll be able to pick that trophy up!” Pops laughed heartily, beaming.

“ _ Waah!!!!”  _ Spritle comically bawled. “I'm being picked on by everybody! Even the trophy!!!”

Speed grinned wanly. “Well, you can't say I didn't warn you, Spritle!” he snickered weakly.

Spritle shot him the most annoyed look he could muster up. “That's not the point, Speed! You need to get a smaller trophy!”

“But if I had a smaller trophy, that would mean I didn't get first place.”

Poor Spritle whacked his forehead with his hand. “I mean, you need to get a smaller first-place trophy, then!”

Eventually, Speed noticed that someone was missing from all the merriment. “Say, where's Racer X?” he suddenly interjected, looking around the room. “I was hoping he'd be here, so I could thank him. He really stuck his neck out for me today...” Speed's voice tiredly trailed off.

Pops lightly patted his hand. “I think we all owe him thanks, Speed,” he said softly. “He acted the way your brother Rex used to, whenever you got into a scrape. “ The man paused, and wiped a stray tear away from his cheek. It was funny, how this whole incident could bring back a slew of memories...”Anyways,” Pops continued, “you asked about the Masked Racer. We did see him---just as the ambulance came for you. X said something to the effect, he'd stop by the hospital a little later. He had to collect your trophy, and then---and I quote!---he had some 'unfinished business' to take care of, with that snake Jack Wiley. Now, whaddya make of  _ that _ ?”

Speed appeared a little surprised.  _ So that's how the trophy got in my room. Racer X  _ _ WAS _ _ here earlier,  _ he thought to himself.  _ I must have been asleep when he came in... _

He sighed, and shifted awkwardly under the covers. He had to be careful of the IV line, so that it didn't crimp up or that the fluid path wasn't in any way blocked. Mrs. Racer saw his uneasiness, and immediately leaned over the bedrail to inquire if he were getting tired. Speed shook his head “no.” “No, Mom, I'm fine. I was just thinking,“ he replied quietly. “About what happened today. The kidnapping, the fire...Everything.” He fell silent then, and drew a sharp breath. His parents looked on, concern filling their eyes as they carefully watched their son.

Suddenly, he looked to his father. “Pops?” Speed softly asked, almost sounding like a frightened little boy again.

His father turned to him, startled. “Hmm?”

“I...” Speed looked away, and closed his eyes. He was struggling within himself. He wanted to let his family know personally, how sorry he was for all the worry he'd caused. He had made a few major mistakes along the way, and he had certainly learned a very hard lesson because of them. He sighed heavily, and fell back among the pillows. “...Pops, you and Racer X were right. I was wrong for even thinking, I could race after getting my hide pulled from that fire,” Speed admitted, a little emotional. “I should've paid more attention to what you were saying. I shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel of the Mach 5, at all. I was in no condition to drive...” He paused, then glumly looked up at his dad. “I guess this means, no more racing for me for the rest of the year. Huh?”

For a brief second, the dejected look on his son's face caught Pops by surprise. Funny, he'd forgotten all about his comic threats to ground Speed. “Now, whatever gave you that idea?” he said, with a tight smile. “All right, I admit, I was upset with you when you insisted on running the race after everything you'd been through and against my wishes. But---” Pops reached over, and hugged his son warmly. He couldn't deny the truth---Speed did have what it would take, to be a professional driver. “You ran a brilliant race, son. You never gave up...You drove like a real pro. Your mom and I are real proud of you. ----You can become a professional driver, Speed.”

Speed's jaw simply dropped. He was stunned---and, speechless. Did he hear his father right, he was going to let him turn pro??

Sparky and Trixie, however, were absolutely thrilled. “You mean, you're gonna let Speed go pro?” Sparky exclaimed excitedly. “Oh, yeah!”

Pops gave him an odd look. “Well, of course I'll let him go pro!” he rasped. His face was starting to turn red. “What do you think, I said??”

Trixie was overjoyed. “Oh, Speed! Did you hear that? Pops is going to let you use the Mach 5 for racing!” she exclaimed, hugging a bewildered Speed and giving him a big smooch.

Poor Speed! He could turn as red in the face as his dad at times! “Hey! What am I, a teddy bear or something?” he tried to protest. “I'm getting hugged to death over here---!!”

Even Spritle and Chim Chim were happy. To them, that meant more free rides in the trunk of the Mach 5! “Oh, boy! Speed's gonna be a real big star now, Chim Chim. That means we can watch everything from our favorite spot,” the little boy excitedly told Chim Chim, who was happily jumping up and down.

Well, Pops quickly put a damper on the kids' enthusiasm. He wasn't about to let Speed off the hook entirely for the day's wild misadventure. “On one condition,” the former pro wrestler snapped, glaring at poor Speed. “Don't let me catch you driving in that condition, ever again! Or your racing days WILL be over!!! Understood???”

Speed swallowed hard. His face suddenly went from blushing, to as white as the blanket on his bed. “Y-yes, sir!!!” he gulped, then ducked under the blanket for cover where he comically cowered a bit. “It-it won't happen again. I promise!”

Pops scowled. “Good!”

Even Sparky was a little afraid of his boss. “Uhh...Pops? I don't think Speed's gonna get any better, with you bellowing at him like this,” Speed's best pal timidly pointed out. “You're scaring him half to death!”

Pops' face turned even redder. “Who's bellowing??? I'm not bellowing!!” he snapped, flustered as usual. “Who says, I'm bellowing???!!!”

Trixie, Spritle and Sparky all covered their ears. Leave it to Pops, to find some way of bursting Speed's bubble! “Ahhh!!! My ears!!” poor Trixie groaned, plugging her ears with her fingers. “My poor ears! Pops, you're going to burst my eardrums at this rate!”

Chim Chim, startled by all the yelling, bumped into the table holding Speed's trophy and his bag of candy. The bag of bulls-eyes fell onto the little chimpanzee's head, then to the floor. Seeing the candy, Chim Chim picked up the bag and then tried to sneak off with it.

Unfortunately he didn't get very far, before Speed caught him in the act. “Hey! Chim Chim! Where do you think you're going with that candy??” he shouted, wide-eyed in astonishment.

Poor Chim Chim! Busted----! Knowing that he'd been spotted, the little chimp tried to go faster but Speed was determined not to let his favorite candy get away. Despite the IV in his arm, he threw back the covers and attempted to get out of bed, intent on chasing Chim Chim---as best he could!--until the chimp gave him back the bag! “Come back here! Those are MY bulls-eyes!!!”

His father saw what was about to transpire, and boy did Speed get an earful of Pops! “SPEED!!! GET BACK IN THAT BED, THIS INSTANT!!!”

_ Eek!!  _ Chim Chim screeched. He scampered under the bed, Speed's bag of bulls-eyes in paw, and began to devour the candy as fast as he could.

Oh, well. So much for Speed's candy. The chimp got it!

Poor Speed quickly dove back into his hospital bed and immediately hid under the covers, cowering in comic terror. “Mom?? Is it safe to come out yet---??” he pleaded.

Out in the hallway, a familiar masked figure strolled swiftly towards Speed's hospital room. He was still in his racing suit. Racer X had finally arrived on the scene, after wrapping up a session with Inspector Detector and talking with a handful of other drivers about the Alpha Team incident and Speed's current condition. As he approached his younger brother's hospital room, Rex Racer could hear his mother laying into his father---as usual. **“** _ **Dear! You're not helping Speed at all. This yelling has got to stop!”** _ X heard his mother firmly declare, and he could just imagine the look Pops was getting from her right about now.  _ **“Now do I need to get Dr. Wilson in here and tell him, you're scaring his patient??”** _

_ **“Uh...N-No! No, dear, not at all!”** _ was Pops' rather flustered reply.

Racer X smiled, and chuckled.  _ I've got to hand it to Mom. She always did know how to handle us hot-tempered Racer men,  _ he mused to himself.  _ How she and Pops managed to stay together this long, it's certainly a mystery to me! _

And Mom Racer was nowhere near finished with putting her foot down on the chaos reigning in her son's hospital room, either. Her next intended target was Speed himself. “And, besides,” Mrs. Racer said sweetly, smiling at her rather skitterish son---Speed was still hunkered down under the bedcovers and peering out over the edge---and reaching over to stroke his hair, “Speed won't be going anywhere for the next----oh, three to four days. He'll be laid up, in bed. Complete bed rest.---Doctor's orders, sweetheart.” She tenderly kissed a stunned Speed's forehead.

Oh, boy. Talk about having the rug pulled out from under your feet! Poor Speed's face blanched when he heard how long he had to stay in bed. “Whaat!!!!” he exclaimed, wide-eyed with shock. “Four days---!!! But Mom, I promised Trixie I'd take her to the drive-in on Friday night---!!!”

“I'm sorry, Speed. But you have to stay in bed until Dr. Wilson clears you. That's why he wants you to stay here overnight. For observation.”

Speed looked frantically to his father. “Pops! Say something!” he begged.

Pops merely chuckled. “I wish I could help you there, Speed. But I agree with your mother,” he replied, sympathetic to his son's plight. “You got roughed up some. You need time to recover. “

Speed wasn't listening. He was too busy thnking about how he could keep his date----without overexerting himself! “Four days...Wait a minute, I should be fine by Friday---”

Mrs. Racer was no fool, however. She knew what her middle son was thinking. “Well, that'll be up to Dr. Wilson to decide, dear,” she said, smiling knowingly at Speed. “Besides. I don't think you'd want to be on a date with Trixie, and then fall asleep in the middle of the movie now. Do you?”

Speed groaned. “What am I gonna do for the next four days, then? I'm gonna go nuts---!”

Trixie cuddled him. “Oh, Speed, don't worry. I'll figure out something for us to do,” she whispered reassuringly.

Pops already had an idea. His eyes gleamed with a devious sparkle. “Oh, but I think I know how to occupy your time, my boy,” he said with a grin. “Looks like the Pops Racer School of Driving will be in session!”

That was enough to cause Speed to hunker down under the covers again. “Great! Three straight days of lecture from Pops!” he moaned.

His dad smiled. “Ohh, yes. We're gonna review in full detail, the fundamentals of proper driving. Including, proper physical conditioning!”

Speed grimaced, and gulped. “He's enjoying this too much!”

Just then, there was a knock at his door. “Who is it?” Speed grumbled.

The door opened. Racer X entered, smiling. “I see I'm not too late to the party,” he remarked, surveying the sea of faces around him. “I'm glad to see you're awake now, Speed. Some of the other drivers and I were very worried about you.”

Speed slowly sat up in bed. “Thanks! But you're just in time to save me again. This time, from Pops!” He shot a smug-looking Pops a dirty look.

His visitor looked puzzled. “What did Pops do now?” X asked, concerned.

Pops pretended not to have seen the look Speed was throwing in his direction. “Oh, nothing. I didn't do a thing,” he replied nonchalantly.

Of course, Spritle just had to chime in and rat on his dad! “Oh, he just threatened to ruin Speed's life for the next few days, that's all,” the little boy innocently tattled.

Pops gave his youngest son an annoyed look. “SPRI-TLE???!!!!” he started to bellow.

A wide-eyed Spritle gulped. “Uh...oh!!!”

He scampered behind Racer X. Chim Chim followed, making all kinds of frightened chimp noises. “Racer X! If you're gonna save Speed from Pops....Then save me, too!” Spritle cried out.

A tight half-smile broke at the corners of X's mouth. “You certainly inspire feelings in your boys, Pops,” he commented lightly.

Pops made a face. “Well, I hope I do!”

Spritle shook his head. “I don't think he meant it that way, Pops. I think he meant, fear---and you don't have to scare us that much, you know!”

By now, Mrs. Racer decided that enough was enough. She immediately stepped in, and made herself known to her squabbling family. “All right, boys, that's enough! This is a hospital room, and Speed needs to get some rest!” she said firmly, gazing hard at Speed, Spritle, their father, and Racer X. “And, dear? You leave Speed alone. So he can get some sleep!” Mom Racer shot her husband a knowing look.

“Or maybe, I need a pair of earplugs. To block out Pops,” Speed mumbled.

His mother immediately held a finger to his lips. “Hush now, Speed! It's time for you, to go to bed,” Mrs. Racer firmly ordered her bedridden son.

Speed blushed. “Yes, Mom.“

Racer X walked over to Speed's bedside, and sat down on the lefthand edge. “Actually, Speed. I thought you'd might like to know before you drift off to sleep, Wiley and the rest of his associates are behind bars this evening.”

Immediately a huge wave of relief fell over the room. Speed breathed a huge sigh of relief. “OK! You mean to tell me, I can actually relax now??” he tiredly jested. He was starting to nod off, but he was also fighting to stay awake just a little longer.

Trixie squeezed his hand. “Oh, thank goodness! The Alpha Team's nothing but a bunch of cheaters,” she declared, her brown eyes blazing. “They got what they deserved, and then some!”

Speed's elder brother was bemused by her feistiness. “Why, Trixie! I half expected that kind of commentary from Pops, not from someone like yourself,” Racer X said.

Trixie got a bit huffy. “Well, they nearly killed Speed! Why shouldn't I say something?” she retorted. “I say, good riddance!”

Racer X turned to his father. “By the way, Pops. I've been informed that there's going to be an emergency meeting of the Racing Association general committee tomorrow morning, to discuss this incident,” he said quietly. “That's what took me so long tonight. Many of the drivers I've spoken to have indicated, they'll be there to testify about what went down on the track during the race. No doubt, you'll want to be there--”

Pops nodded. “You bet I do! If this has to do with Jack Wiley, you better believe I've got something to say,” he replied, fighting to control his temper. “He may have not directly put my boy in the hospital, but his men certainly contributed to his condition. What time?”

“Eleven AM, track president's office. And since Speed can't be there to give his side of the story, I'll be there to do it for him. It wouldn't be a bad idea for Spritle to come along, either. The committee just might be interested in hearing his testimony, as well.”

Still, Speed had a few more questions. “This meeting you spoke of, Racer X. Are they really gonna do something about Jack Wiley?” he asked, curious.

His elder brother nodded. “Yes. He could be banned from racing for life,” X replied. “As it is, he and his men are looking at anywhere from twenty to thirty years in prison for the kidnapping---two counts each. Unfortunately, the police can't add attempted murder to the list of charges because the fire was accidently started.”

Speed understood. “What about Zoomer Slick? Where does he stand? He had no knowledge of the kidnap plot--”

“That's all true. But he will be penalized in the standings for the Alpha Team's dirty tatics, no doubt. He'll lose points, and be forced to drive either as an independent or he'll have to find another sponsor.” Racer X paused. He noticed that Speed was yawning, and getting sleepy again. “I think your mom's right, Speed. Looks like it's time for you, to get a good night's sleep,” he said.

Just then, there was yet another knock at the door. A nurse came in to tell everyone, visiting time was up. As the Racers and their friends prepared to leave after saying their goodnights to Speed, Racer X nodded to them. “Go on. I'll get the lights here,” he told Pops. “I'll see you at that meeting.”

For almost another fifteen minutes, the man formerly known as Rex Racer sat on the edge of his younger brother's bed, watching as Speed fell back into a deep, restful sleep. It had been all too surreal for Racer X to be working with his own family again but not allowed to let them know, who he really was.  _ Although I think Pops does suspect, my identity... _

His thoughts now turned to Speed.  _ Look at him, sleeping so peacefully now. Only eleven hours ago he was lying in my arms, a terrified boy,  _ the Masked Racer told himself, thinking back to the fateful events of the day.  _ Then to drive in a major race after enduring what he did---that took a lot of courage. _

He gazed down at the sleeping Speed once more. “Speed, I hope you become the best driver in the world someday,” Racer X whispered, laying a gloved hand on his little brother's shoulder. “You've got courage, and you've got heart. I know you'll succeed---and I'll always be looking out for you.” He affectionately rubbed Speed's shoulder. “Sleep well, little brother. You've earned it.”

He rose from the bed. Before turning off the lights the Masked Racer looked back at Speed, and smiled. Then he---Racer X, aka Rex Racer---switched off the lights and walked out into the night.

 

_ FINIS _

 

 

 

 


End file.
